


Odd Bits and Ends

by OfHealingLove



Category: Durarara!!, Far Cry 3, Hunter X Hunter, Naruto, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: 18 with 3000 IS UNDERAGE OK, 3000 fucking years old, Aphrodisiacs, Body Modification, Christmas Eve fic, Drugging, Dubious Consent, F/M, Kidnapping, Obsession, Pokephilia, Smut, Stalking, Tentacle Rape, Tumblr Prompt, Yandere!Chisaki Kai, Yandere!Izaya, Yandere!Overhaul, Yandere!Yami Bakura, almost everyone is yandere, also Yami Bakura is like what, bungee gum - Freeform, but damned if I know where that is, but they're still in high school which is basically underage to me, delusional!Izaya, kage bunshin, mild body horror, psychotic!Izaya, something happens consensually in here somewhere, tags added as fics as are added, technically not underage, temporarily, yandere!Hisoka, yandere!Uchiha Madara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-06-27 01:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 57,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15675456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfHealingLove/pseuds/OfHealingLove
Summary: Dump for smutty one-shots, odds and ends of unfinished stories to keep everything in one place, tumblr drabbles (often smuttastic) and basically just a place to showcase the weirdness of my mind. Updated sporadically. Multi-fandom, lots of non-con as well as anything else my brain decides to spit out. At least good for one (1) reading of mindless, plotless smut. NOW TAKING REQUESTS! Send to ofhealinglove on Tumblr.Currently featuring new updates:- yandere!Hisoka/Reader- yandere!Izaya/Reader-yandere!Chisaki Kai/Reader--yandere!Yami Bakura/Reader/Bakura Ryou (F/M only, no threesome)(possibly) Coming Soon:-Vaas/OC (NSFW)-sequel to Bungee Gum (Hisoka/Reader, NSFW)-Teacher/Student College AU with Sephiroth/Reader (NSFW)-something probably to do with some KH baddie (Vanitas/Zexion/Xemnas/SOMEONE pls request) idk-A/B/O AU Yandere!Hanamiya Makoto/Reader (NSFW)





	1. Kage Bunshin [Orochimaru/Sakura] NSFW

**Author's Note:**

> Let's have some tame OroSaku dub-con for the first chapter, yeah?
> 
> Remember that one guy in the chuunin exams arc? Who was like a hot version on Orochimaru? Well that guy WAS Orochimaru, and he is the one who appears here. I would link it, but god am I bad at this stuff... so just like, google for chuunin exam Orochimaru disguise or some shit. I promise you won't regret it.
> 
> Note: Unedited from original posting.

Sakura doesn’t know what to make of her new living arrangements.

The term being used very, _very_ loosely.

She’s been told that she’s here because her skills as a medic would be useful to Oto and specifically its Kage, but so far, she hasn’t been called on by said kage or really anybody. She sits in her small but admittedly lavish quarters choking down the food offered—she doesn’t really like it, but it’s sustenance and she has to keep up her strength—and biding her time until she can make her escape.

When she’d first been captured, she’d entertained fantasies of bringing back Sasuke. However, he’d shown neither hide nor hair since she’d arrived, even though she was almost certain that he knew she was here, and honestly, it had been what, four years since he’d left? And they’d been trying to get him back that whole time.

She’s pretty sure that there’s no point in trying anymore.

Still, she’s been taught to look underneath the underneath, and if they’re not calling on her for medic duties yet—she’s pretty sure it’s been almost a week and there’s _no way_ there hasn’t been a single injury that entire time, come on, they’re _ninjas_ —then there must be some other reason for her capture.

Sakura doesn’t know what that could be, or, rather—she has a few ideas of what they might want her for, and none of them are palatable. Sometimes, if she thinks too hard about it, she’s almost sick.

It’s that evening when she hears a knock on her door that she finally knows she’s been called upon. Dinner was served a few hours ago and the plate has been taken away already, so there’s nothing else this could be.

Her stomach twists uncomfortably, and she wonders if she should say, “Come in,” or just let whoever they are intrude at their will. It’s not like she could say, “I’m busy!” and expect them to leave.

The choice is ultimately taken from here when the door opens and someone walks in.

A man she’s never seen before, who’s handsomer than Sasuke but also probably about Kakashi’s age, dressed in a purple kimono that reminds her strangely of Orochimaru. But this man definitely isn’t him, even if his pupils are slitted similarly.

“Haruno Sakura?” he asks in a mellifluous voice, smooth and almost…polite?

“Yes?” she says, torn between confusion and hostility and settling on blank for now.

He smiles, a little quirk of his lips, and closes the door behind him. “I’ve been given orders on what to do with you,” he tells her, and she feels her stomach twist again. Maybe she should have gone straight for hostility.

“And what’s that?” she asks, her voice now hard and eyes sharp.

“Orochimaru-sama needs an heir,” he answers.

Sakura glares, not sure what that has to do with her at all. “He has Sasuke-kun already.”

“Not that kind of heir.”

Her stomach drops like she’s freefalling thousands of feet through the air. Her feelings must have shown on her face, because he smiles gently.

“I understand your concern,” he says. “But it must be done. Your consent would be appreciated, but it’s not necessary.” Still, though, there’s no threat in his tone. It’s like he’s reciting a Shinobi Rule by rote: there’s no emotion, just a terrible certainty.

“So there’s no way out of this?” she asks with a cold, trembling voice. Be strong for now, wait to strike. She should have been trying to escape much harder than she had so far, but after the first two days she’d been lured into complacency. “Can he even get it up?”

The man just smirks, almost conspiratorially. “That remains to be seen. He just thought that, with you being a virgin-” she cries out in indignation that that’s been brought up “-you might prefer not to lose it to him.”

“I don’t want to lose it at all,” she grits out. Her throat is tight and she feels like she’s going to be ill all over the floor. But curiosity niggles her. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Well, I’ve been told I’m handsome, and I certainly know what I’m doing, so he sent me in case you preferred to start slow.”

Sakura reddens and glares. “I’m not going to do this.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to consent. Orochimaru-sama isn’t going to take no for an answer. But he _is_ attempting to make it easier for you.”

Tears fill her eyes momentarily but she blinks them back. “How is being raped twice better than being raped once?” She’s practically spitting the words at him.

“The goal was with me that it wouldn’t be rape,” the shinobi says, and he sounds actually remorseful in that moment. Odd that not everyone in Oto would be a heartless bastard, but just because he doesn’t like it doesn’t mean he won’t do it. “And sleeping with me is completely optional, of course.”

Sakura swallows hard. “I need to think about this.”

“Sorry, but I’m on a time limit. I’ll give you five minutes and that’s all.” He walks out of the room and closes the door behind him, but his footsteps don’t go any farther than that. He’s standing in the hall right by the door—she won’t be escaping during the time she’s been given to think.

Sakura wants to rail at this and scream and cry, but a practical part of her knows that that’s not going to do anything, and she needs this five minutes. Two are spent reining in her impulses to do the aforementioned, and the next three are spent contemplating her achievable options.

The truth is, she doesn’t want to lose her virginity to Orochimaru. She’d rather it be with this nameless shinobi, even if it’s still rape, because even though virginity is a rather antiquated value, she personally holds it in high regard. She doesn’t want her first time to be with that monster. At all. At least this one isn’t horrifically repulsive.

She sighs. It hurts, but she’ll deal with it another time. She has to be pragmatic right now, and that means making do with what she’s been given.

She calls for him to come in, not wanting to sit with her thoughts any longer than she has to. When he opens the door and returns, she tells him with a haggard sigh, “I’d rather you than him.”

He nods, and Sakura takes a moment to observe him fully.

He has long black hair with two long bangs framing his face around his hitai-ate and the rest pulled into a high ponytail. He has those slitted purple eyes that reminded her of his Kage, and pale skin. He looks to be in very good shape, as most shinobi do, and his hands are large and callused. But she thinks that it won’t be nearly as bad with him as it will with Orochimaru.

Maybe, if it feels good enough with this shinobi, she can replace Orochimaru’s face with his. Just so it’s not as unbearable.

The shinobi walks over to her and sits down on her bed. Sakura scoots away, but a hand on her bicep halts her.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “But I can’t sleep with you from across the room.” His tone is wry.

Sakura understands that his demeanor and attempts at humor are meant to relax her, but it’s not really working. The longer she looks at this man, this stranger, the more panicked she gets. She wishes she felt otherwise about first-time experiences, but she doesn’t, and sex means something to her. Or at least, until now, she had hoped it would.

Those are thoughts for another day.

As she stares at him, he leans forward slowly and tucks a strand of short pink hair behind her ear. The touch is feather-light, and not intrusive. She flinches, but more out of surprise than fear, and the surprise is only that for some reason she expected it to hurt and it didn’t.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, and repeats, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Sakura nods and can’t help the tears that come to her eyes. Angry at herself for the expression of unwanted emotion, she blinks them back and then take a deep breath, centering herself.

It might be rape, it might not. But she’s decided that if this is going to happen at all, she’ll be in charge of what happens her first time.

He must see something in her eyes, because he smirks, his strange eyes glittering, and the next moment her lips are pressed against his, tentative and inexperienced but nonetheless determined.

For a moment, they make eye contact, and then he melds his mouth against hers, lips teasing and caressing, and Sakura closes her eyes because she realizes then that it really doesn’t feel right to kiss with them open. She feels his gaze on her for another moment and then he closes his too while at the same time brushing his tongue against her lips.

It…doesn’t feel as terrible as she thought it would, and she hesitantly seeks out his tongue with hers. It feels strange, to be sure, but not…bad.

He takes his time sweetening her up, the kiss moving like magnetic waves: pushing and pulling, giving and taking, but eventually he comes out on top. But lightly. Subtle shifts of movement that slowly have him pulling her under his body, and she notices, but it’s so unobtrusive and almost feels natural, so she allows it. His hands settle on her waist, then slowly massage downwards towards her hips, where they knead in heated circles—and at the same time, he’s leaning in on her with his chest, deepening the kiss fully so that he can explore her mouth, and she does the same.

Before she knows it, she’s on her back with swollen lips and mussed hair and panting heavily. It’s…really okay, actually. She stares into his purple eyes and sees a muted lust there, but it’s nothing lascivious, nothing that’s going to scare her off. He’s in between her legs, her thighs wrapped around his waist, and he’s grinding slowly but steadily against her.

Sakura feels something slowly, slowly building in her abdomen, like kindling being urged to catch fire but resisting. And then his hand slips under her shirt and palms her breast through her bindings, and she feels a little spark.

He obviously notices the change in demeanor then because he pulls at her bindings until they unravel enough for him to caress a soft peak. He circles his finger around the tip, bringing taut to attention but never quite stimulating directly—and that kindling _burns._

She feels the moan come out from deep within her throat, a sort of surprised sound, but now he’s pulling up the shirt and taking that peak into his mouth and _oh._ His tongues swirls, lavishes all the heated attention it can, but it’s not enough. Before she knows it, she’s grinding back against him, boldly and powerfully. If her chakra hadn’t been restrained she’d probably have accidentally crushed his pelvis by now, because she’s gripping and moaning and gasping and she wants that fire to _explode._

The shinobi pulls away and tugs at the waist of her skirt. Sakura feels like she should be upset about what’s going to happen now, but honestly she hasn’t looked forward to anything this badly in a while. She’s a med-nin, and she knows how this part works, so she surprises herself by fumbling with his pants while he works on hers. He smiles, and there’s something dark there, but Sakura doesn’t care. It actually looks…sexy, and what a word to use—on him.

Just as she’s wresting down his pants and he has slipped her out of her underthings, she leans forward to capture his lips again. She feels him hard and bare against her, and for a moment she freezes, but then his hand is slipping down between her folds, touching a little button of pure pleasure that has her gasping the gods’ names.

One finger pushes inside her and where she would have expected a lot of pain there is only a little, and she’s so wet and he’s so good that he’s immediately exploiting another spot on her body that gives out just so much pleasure she gasps for air.

One, two, three—and she’s _coming_ , oh, she’s coming so hard she sees stars, and doesn’t notice when he pushes another finger in except that it just enhances the pleasure.

When she comes back down she’s panting and clutching his shoulders tightly.

“I don’t think it will hurt,” he says. “You’re a kunoichi. But just in case, we’ll go slow.”

Sakura doesn’t think she understands the meaning of slow right now. It’s not in her vocabulary. She doesn’t know what she wants, but she wants it, and she’s pretty sure he can give it to her, so when he aligns himself with her she spreads her legs even wider.

He prods against her and a little bit of rationality peeks through.

 _Are you sure?_ it asks.

 _Yes._ And she thinks that in another world where she and this man are on the same side, there’d be no hesitation on her part in the first place.

“What’s your name?” she whispers. She realizes she’s never asked for it.

He answers by thrusting into her, hard and quick, like ripping off a band-aid. But there’s no pain, just initial discomfort that somehow actually feels delicious. Sakura hates to think that she likes a little pain in the bedroom, but right now that’s not the kind of thing to think about.

He stays there for a moment, probably to let her adjust, but Sakura’s always had a pretty high pain tolerance and she pushes back against him. He groans and it makes her feel good to think that she’s not the only one here enjoying themselves.

It starts out slow, but in mere moments they’re pounding against each other. Sakura wants to feel that explosion again, and she knows instinctively that it’ll feel even better with him inside her. It’s frenzied and hot and passionate, and Sakura thinks she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Slow and gentle was for love. Fast and rough is for this.

The kindling is catching again, burning even hotter now that he’s reattached his lips and tongue to her breast, the other one this time, and it’s almost too much. She keens, and he hits just right, and she’s clamping down around him, screaming and moving as fast as she can to make it the best feeling she’s ever had.

She doesn’t even notice him coming. All she knows is that he’s moving harder and faster, and it just feels so good that she can’t stand it.

What feels like an hour later has them both panting on the bed, Sakura splayed out and tired and so satisfied. Then, when she comes back to herself enough, she realizes she’ll have to do it again—this time with an old, repulsive snake-man.

This man, though, he’d given her a reprieve. There would have been many better ways to lose one’s virginity, but she thinks that in this case this was about as good as it was going to get. She’ll take it, and she can cry over it later.

Perhaps while she’s with Orochimaru. Kami knows that he won’t care if she’s bawling her eyes out or not.

The shinobi’s redressing himself, and Sakura’s suddenly hit with the reminder that next…next is Orochimaru. The food in her stomach feels like it’s curdled.

“I’ll be back soon,” the shinobi says. Sakura nods, and dammit, the tears are already coming.

“…Thank you,” she says, staring at the ceiling determinedly—not because he’s getting Orochimaru, but because she doesn’t think she’ll have an aversion to sex for the rest of her life now. Still, she hasn’t slept with the monster snake-man yet, so there’s still time to change that.

The man turns from where he’s standing at the door. “For what?”

His voice is different now, familiar. She remembers a forest, blood, Sasuke screaming…

With dawning horror, she turns to look at him.

Pale golden eyes with slitted pupils; skin the color of milk; purple eye contouring; long black hair let free. Orochimaru. Henge.

She’d just willingly slept with Orochimaru and had given him her virginity—and she hadn’t known it for a second, not until he’d revealed it.

Sakura can only stare as he opens the door and with a casual wave, he says in that gravelly but cultured voice, “Until tomorrow, Sakura-chan.”

She vomits profusely for the rest of the night.


	2. Storm [Madara/Sakura] NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storm, taken from my old website (OfBrokenLove Official Blog), chapters one through ten, unedited since original posting. Enjoy!
> 
> She never thought this would happen; why would _she_ be chosen to help resurrect the Uchiha clan? The Rokudaime and ruler of all the shinobi nations, Uchiha Madara, for some reason took interest and she had to escape from Konoha and hope she could find some help. However, Sakura knew that it was only a matter of time before it all caught up to her...she could only hope she was killed before capture, because she'd rather die than bear his children, for death would be the only was to escape his grasp.
> 
> Noncon, kidnapping, abuse, forced impregnation, yandere!Uchiha Madara, dark!Uchiha Madara

** Storm **

* * *

 

** Chapter One: Wind **

_~We like to think that we have a choice_

_An option, a decision, some kind of voice_

_But we are as bound to destiny as we are bound to die_

_So hush child, don’t you cry~_

Ω         Ω         Ω 

It felt as though winter had come early this year.

Sakura shivered in the small cave she was camped out in, wishing she could start a fire but knowing that the consequences could be dire if she did so. She was still in Fire country, and that inherently meant she was in danger. However, it wasn’t any more dangerous than any other country, except in that she was closer to _him_. Madara had managed to quell every single nation in a few short months, reigning them in and bringing them under his control.

It had been discovered that Tobi was actually Obito, but the Moon-Eye had plan had fallen back in priority once Uchiha Madara had been resurrected. True to his nature, Madara had killed Obito in order to ensure his place as leader of Konoha and soon after, the rest of the world. Now the Eye of the Moon plan wasn’t even necessary; Madara ruled the lands with an iron fist.

Sakura hadn’t seen any of her friends since the dreaded day that Konoha was attacked. It had been a catastrophic day for the Hidden Leaf. War had been fast coming; the problem was it had been _too_ fast. By the time her shishou had been informed of the oncoming attack, the army of Zetsus was already upon them.

Many had been killed, and the rest were forced to flee. Kakashi-sensei had died an honorable death defending the village. Tsunade had been killed by Madara himself, almost symbolic in that he would be her predecessor, and Chouji, Lee, Tenten and Kiba had died as well. Kurenai had been able to escape with her and late Asuma’s daughter, and Sakura knew for a fact Ino, Shikamaru, Sai, Hinata, and Naruto had fled, although not without causing damage.

Sakura had never thought she’d feel this way, but she was actually relieved that Naruto had managed to kill Sasuke. It was wrong of her, she knew, and she was certain Naruto felt extremely guilty about it, but it was for the best and they both knew it. Sasuke had been enveloped by so much rage and hatred that he was a broken soul and would never recover. It was akin to putting an injured animal out of its misery.

Sakura had not escaped initially. She had been captured to be indoctrinated into the new shinobi system, which Madara, the Rokudaime, would be in full control of. However, when her worth had been tested—she’d chosen to comply with the demands because she had to bide her time before escaping—she had somehow caught Madara’s eye.

Ω         Ω         Ω

_Training Ground 4 looked the same as it had always been, but now it felt different. The Rokudaime, surrounded by several ANBU guards, stood at one end of grounds, observing the pitting of shinobi against shinobi. Sakura and about nine or ten other ninja waited to be tested to see if they would remain a ninja or be killed, as if a ninja wasn’t serving him directly, Madara didn’t want them in existence._

_“Haruno Sakura and Ibino Ruka,” announced one of the ANBU in a loud, clear voice. Sakura glanced at the female next to her. She had short brown hair, cut similarly to Naruto’s, and blue doe-like eyes. Ruka was substantially taller than Sakura and not nearly as petite, which would have been a problem if it weren’t for Tsunade’s training._

_Sakura’s heart clenched._ Shishou…

_Ruka stepped forward and Sakura followed. They stood at opposite ends of the training grounds, perpendicular to Madara. They had been supplied with a healthy about of weapons, including kunai, shuriken, and senbon. Sakura had them tucked neatly into her weapon pouch, attached to her hip._

_When both girls were ready, the ANBU who’d announced their names called out, “Fight!”_

_Sakura moved immediately into a defensive position, hoping to goad Ruka into coming to her so that she could utilize her super strength._

_Ruka did not disappoint; it seemed she was either not aware of who had trained Sakura or she had a plan. It was equally likely for either, so Sakura prepared herself for the oncoming attack._

_Ruka launched herself into the air towards Sakura and flung three kunai at her. Sakura had no way of countering this other than to dodge, so she back-flipped out of the way a reasonable distance. This set her up perfectly to bring her fist down as Ruka was just about to land, creating a chasm which Ruka had no reaction time to avoid. The shock on her face would have been priceless if it wasn’t for the dire circumstance this was all happening under._

_Apparently the girl was oblivious as to who had trained her._

_Ruka fell and a sickening crack was heard. Likely she had broken a bone in the shock of the delayed landing. Sakura had put her all into the chasm; it was almost ten feet deep._

_It was obvious she had won, but before anyone could say anything Sakura jumped down her own chasm, channeling chakra to break her fall, and approached Ruka, who was biting her tongue to keep from crying out._

_“Here, let me help,” Sakura said gently, approaching Ruka._

_The brunette regarded her warily. “How?” she demanded, voice pained._

_“I’m a medic-nin. I can heal you.”_

_Ruka relaxed marginally and motioned to her ankle. “I think I broke something when I landed on it funny.”_

_Sakura nodded and then walked up to her, kneeling beside her._

_“Don’t fight my chakra, okay?” she said soothingly before placing her hands on the swollen, bruised ankle._

_It was indeed broken; the talus had been shattered. It would take a more than a little chakra to heal, but-_

_“Haruno-san! Hokage-sama requests your audience. Come at once!” It was another one of Madara’s guards, calling down from the top of the chasm._

_Sakura felt a little sick at the thought of actually talking to the man who’d ruined her life, but she called back, “Of course, just as soon as I finish healing her.”_

_“He is not a patient man, Haruno-san. Please come now,” the ANBU said, a little more gently and coaxingly._

_“He can deal with it,” Sakura growled, and then immediately turned to focus on the healing._

_She received no further trouble. After the bone was healed, she made good on her word and both her and Ruka exited the chasm, Ruka giving Sakura a soft word of thanks before being led away by yet another ANBU. Sakura approached Madara, trying to conceal her fear, and bowed to him reluctantly._

_“You wanted to see me, Hokage-sama?”_

_The corner of Madara’s lips tilted upwards ever-so-slightly. “Indeed.” He paused deliberately before continuing, seeming to enjoy her squirming. “I see you find other things more important than meeting with your Hokage?”_

_Sakura frowned inwardly, but visibly she only bowed in apology. “I am sorry, Hokage-sama. My opponent was injured and I thought it prudent to heal her.”_

_“Ah, then you must be dear Tsunade’s apprentice?” He smirked. “The…odd hair gives it away.” His eyes gleamed with a fear-instilling interest._

_Sakura grit her teeth at the way he referred to her shishou, but still choked out, “Y-yes, Hokage-sama.” She cursed herself for stammering, but she couldn’t help it. He was incredibly intimidating._

_“You must have decent chakra control then, hm?”_

_Slightly offended, Sakura corrected him. “Perfect.”_

_The look of interest only intensified, and Sakura wondered if maybe that hadn’t been the right answer. She was fidgeting, wanting more than anything for this audience to be over._

_When he was silent for a good long time, Sakura finally asked, “May I be dismissed?”_

_Madara observed her for a few moments and then nodded. “Dismissed.” He then turned to the guard as she walked away._

_Curiosity had always been a weak spot for Sakura, and so she couldn’t help but funnel a slight amount of chakra into her ears to do a bit of eavesdropping, if only to find out if Ruka would live. The brunette hadn’t exactly been impressive in the fight._

_Her ears picked up what was being said immediately, and she slowed her gait. If anyone asked, she was exhausted._

_“I want her watched,” Madara was saying. “Put her under 24-hour surveillance. I want reports at the end of every day. She may be what I’m looking for, but perhaps not, so under no circumstance will she know of your presence.”_

_“Hai, Hokage-sama.” The ANBU all spoke at once._

_“Also, I want her medical file. Find out if she has any abnormalities or genetic disorders. Inform her tomorrow she is required to take a fertility test.”_

What!

 _Sakura sped up her pace; she had lingered far too long. But that was when she knew it; she_ had _to escape here. Soon._

It had been a wise decision to start planning an escape. Knowing that she was being watched was discomforting, but it couldn’t be helped. The problem was she hadn’t been able to escape _before_ the fertility test, and so if she was fertile there was a good chance Madara would pursue her. Unfortunately, she hadn’t thought it a good idea to wait for the results because once she knew, Madara probably already knew and her chances of fleeing successfully would be greatly reduced.

But she still liked to think maybe he had another person in mind. If her thought processes were at all near the mark, Madara was intending on reviving the Uchiha clan, probably so that there wouldn’t be any chance of betrayal, as they would all be directly related to him. There were plenty of female ninja who had traits that would appeal to him; to her chagrin, she couldn’t think of any at the moment. Maybe Hinata, but she had left with Naruto and it didn’t appeal to Sakura to throw her friend under the bus like that.

Sakura huddled closer to herself, trying to maintain warmth. Damn, it was freezing! She was now shivering uncontrollably and she was sorely missing her sleeping bag. She hadn’t been able to leave with anything other than her weapons to avoid suspicion, as Konoha’s gates were fully protected and she’d needed to appear inconspicuous as she traveled. The guards who watched her had stopped her just as she was about to escape, but she used her strongest genjutsu on them and it had somehow worked. She would have had no qualms about killing them, but the less attention drawn to her escape, the better, so she’d left them alive.

Now here she was stuck in a cave in the middle of nowhere, too scared to even utilize a bit of chakra to warm herself, much less start a fire.

But oh, was it tempting.

She finally found it within herself to relax her muscles, using the _tiniest_ bit of chakra to maintain body heat and then fell into a fitful sleep.

 Ω         Ω         Ω

It had been three days since she’d escaped, and Madara was still just as furious as he had been when he initially found out. However, the anger was simmering now, not as obvious to the eye. But that didn’t mean, by any stretch of the imagination, that he had calmed down.

The two pathetic ANBU who had allowed her to escape had been killed as an example to those who might fail him. She had obviously somehow found out she was being watched, which was pride-inducing and infuriating all at once, and she’d left a day after the fertility test, which meant she’d known something was up. No matter how she found out, it encouraged him that she would be a good match for his genes. Sharingan users with perfect chakra control? It was a thought too good to pass up. The fact that she was a medic meant that she would know exactly how to protect her body once pregnant, and he would see to it that she kept his children in good care. She would become the Uchiha clan matriarch, which was perfect for her as she’d most likely had political experience due to her apprenticeship with the Godaime.

There was a knock on the door to his office. Madara glanced up from the paperwork he’d been distracted from and frowned.

“Come in.”

In entered two ANBU, one with a hawk mask and one with a cat mask.

“Hokage-sama, we just received word from Inore that there was a girl similar to Haruno-san’s appearance passing by the gates.”

“How long ago?” Madara asked, only showing mild interest. However, on the inside, his anger had dissipated somewhat and turned into anticipation.

“About eight hours ago, around 1400 hours.”

Madara frowned deeply. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get Motsu Rorin and go!”

“Hai!”

In a flash they disappeared, and Madara leaned back in his seat.

Perhaps he’d overreacted just a bit when she’d escaped. It obviously wouldn’t be too hard to find her…not now.

* * *

 

** Chapter Two: Gale **

Ω         Ω         Ω

Sakura sensed them and immediately knew they were aware of her presence somewhere in the area sometime early morning. Even though she’d placed a genjustu over the cave to make it look like a cliff wall, sealed and looking completely unusable as a hideaway, she knew she couldn’t stay. They knew she was around, and she did not want to rely on the genjustu to protect her. She would have to get a better sense of where they were before escaping.

There were two of them, which seemed odd because usually squads consisted of three, but Sakura’s ability to sense chakra signatures had never led her wrong before. Unless there was a third one and they were hiding…it seemed strange that they would think her incapable of knowing they were there and not mask their chakra signatures as they looked for her. It was entirely too suspicious.

Did they think she was stupid?

She exhaled softly, weariness filling her. She had only slept a few tumultuous hours before knowing it was futile. It restored enough chakra to be helpful, anyways, so that was good enough. She had waited to eat even though her stomach begging for food. She had passed by a town the day before but had thought better of actually going there. Even then, Sakura had a feeling that traveling too close to Inore was what had given her whereabouts away. Not that it mattered; she had masked her chakra the moment she’d sensed them, but chances were the shinobi had already caught a whiff and would be in the area for a while…best case scenario, they stayed only for a little while and then moved on; worst case, they waited until she had no choice but to seek food and water and then attacked her in her emaciated state.

That thought in mind, Sakura knew that she was better off getting out now and, if need be, attacking while she still had her vitality and chakra rather than waiting until they moved on—just in case they didn’t.

Suddenly, any sense of chakra in the clearing disappeared. She immediately went on alert. There was no way they’d be stupid enough to teleport away, so they had masked their chakra. While she thought them stupid to underestimate her, she suddenly wished that they _were_ that stupid. It would make this so much easier!

Now she had no choice but to run. She couldn’t give them much more time—they could be moving further away or _closer_ , and she couldn’t allow the latter to happen. She immediately dropped the genjustu and darted out of the cave, masking any hint of chakra she might possess.

It happened too quickly to realize what was going on until it was already over. Just as she exited the small cave, a chakra flared behind her and the moment she whirled around to attack her pursuer, two more chakra signatures appeared behind her and she was restrained before she could flee. She struggled, fueling chakra into her arms to break free, but before she could move her arms to wrest herself away from them, two cold manacles were placed over her wrists. It wouldn’t have been a problem if they were normal metal.

But these were not normal. As soon as they clicked shut, Sakura felt the chakra drain from her arms instantly and then the rest of her chakra was soon being pulled away from her.

_They drained chakra!_

Letting out a harsh cry, she kicked the man directly behind her in the shin, but it has less effect than it could have had if she had her chakra.

“You bastards!” she ground out. She struggled mercilessly and soon both of the ANBU behind her had to restrain her.

“Calm yourself, Haruno-san,” said the one with a wolf mask in front of her. “We are not here to fight you.”

“Yeah, because you know I’d kill you!” she growled, attempting to struggle but having two ANBU shinobi behind her and no chakra made it a futile effort.

“Perhaps,” the man agreed. “That is why Hokage-sama sent a separate team behind us. I doubt you could take six ANBU by yourself, hm?”

Sakura spat at his feet but said nothing. He was right; she was strong, but not six-versus-one strong. Especially not with the way her stomach was protesting about not having eaten in two days.

“Thank you,” the wolf ANBU said, almost politely. Sakura shook her head and didn’t look at him, a feeling of dread pitting itself in her gut, stronger than the need for food.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

She couldn’t go back to Konoha. It had still gone unsaid as to what he was after, but nonetheless his intentions were clear.

There was no way she was letting _that_ son of a bitch anywhere _near_ here.

“Wolf-san, what next?” asked one of the ANBU behind her. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes and noted he was wearing a grey cat mask. The other had a golden-brown hawk mask and had been silent this entire time.

“We depart for Konoha,” Wolf replied. “Haruno-san, if you agree to obey and behave, we will not have to take turns carrying you.”

Sakura frowned, a scowl etching her features. “I’ll behave,” she grumbled grudgingly. There was no way a capable kunoichi like herself would allow herself to be _carried._

“Very well then. Let’s go.”

She noticed they did not take to the trees; it was obviously because Sakura had no way to jump from tree to tree without her chakra, and they weren’t going to let her have it back. Speaking of chakra, she was already dangerously low by the time the chakra-draining manacles had done their work. She had about the same amount of chakra as a civilian at this point, and it was putting her into an even fouler mood.

But that was all under the shadow of what was going to happen when she got to Konoha. Certainly Madara wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, and she would be put on lockdown.

She grit her teeth, more out of fear than of anger. They walked at a fast pace and Sakura was glad she’d taken up distance running before the attack on Konoha. It helped her keep up without winding herself.

It wasn’t like it would matter if she fell behind. The cat and the hawk were behind her, watching her every move, while the wolf, obviously the leader of the squad, took the lead.

As they ran, Sakura tried to come up with a plan for a second escape, but she was too hungry and too overwhelmed to think much about any possibilities.

They went like this for about an hour before Sakura stumbled on an upturned root and crashed to the ground. Her hunger had caught up with her and she simply couldn’t go on. The party stopped and the wolf came over to inspect her. She made no move to get up, instead laying there and feeling hot tears stream down her face.

The wolf knelt down and noticed her pale face and the tears. He stood and called out, “Cat-san, Hawk-san, secure a perimeter. We’re taking a quick break.”

The two nodded, saying “Hai!” before taking off.

“Haruno-san,” the wolf said, kneeling down next to her, “Are you alright?”

Sakura said nothing, turning her face down to the ground and smudging her face with dirt and tears.

The wolf was not to be deterred. “Have you eaten recently?” he asked softly.

“No,” she spat, but with no real anger. She was exhausted, she was weary, and worst of all…

She was trapped.

“Come, sit up. We’ll get you something to eat.”

Sakura did not comply, saying, “I’d rather die of starvation than go back there.”

“Haruno-san, you need to keep up your-”

“No!” she exclaimed, sitting up ramrod straight to glare at him. “Do you know what I’m going back to in Konoha? Do you know what’s going to happen to me?”

She couldn’t see the expression on his face, so there was no telling what he was thinking, but soon he replied, “I imagine you’ll be punished for trying to flee. The Hokage was not pleased with your actions.”

“Do you know _why_ I fled?” she demanded.

“As one of the former members of Team Seven and the late Godaime’s apprentice, I imagine you’re not too thrilled with the changes.” He paused. “We all have to adapt to change, Haruno-san. It is our duty as ninja to serve our Hokage and defend our village. Sometimes, things turn out a way we don’t want them to, but that’s part of life.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Where were you when we _defended our village_ against the current Hokage?”

However, this was a mistake to say. Apparently it cemented what he thought was her problem with the village, and he did not rise to the bait. “A good shinobi can adapt, Haruno-san. We had no choice. It was either serve or be killed.”

“That just serves to confirm my belief. You are a coward.” She turned away in disgust.

“And you’re not? You ran.”

Sakura looked up at him with disbelieving eyes. “You’re calling _me_ a coward? I’m sure you’d be scared too if the Rokudaime was going to turn you into a baby factory against your will!”

The wolf stiffened but before he could reply, the cat and the hawk returned.

“Perimeter secure, captain.” The hawk spoke for the first time.

The wolf nodded stiffly. “Cat-san, give Haruno-san some rations. She collapsed because she is suffering from lack of food.”

“Hai, captain.”

The cat pulled out of his brown back a few biscuits and a bottle of water. “Here you go, Haruno-san.”

And then they were met with the awkward situation of Sakura not having use of her hands, as they were manacled behind her back.

The wolf, noticing the problem, nodded at the cat. “Take off her manacles. She’s too drained by now to try and escape, and if some of her chakra replenishes we can travel faster.”

Sakura gaped at the wolf. He knew what he was sending her to and he was trying to move _faster?_

Hatred and disgust brewed in her heart.

The cat moved behind her and removed the cuffs. The wolf nodded to Sakura and she began eating, trying to fight the anger that was ruining her appetite.

The wolf spoke again. “Cat-san, Hawk-san, we will be here awhile to let her rest. Why don’t you go fill up your canteens at the nearby river?”

They nodded and left, leaving the wolf and her alone again.

Without a word, the wolf walked over to her water bottle and picked it up. Sakura looked at him curiously, still eating the biscuits. Suddenly, he pulled out what looked to be a soldier pill out of his pack and giving her a surreptitious look, applied chakra to his hand, which ground up the pill into a fine powder and sprinkled it into the water.

He handed it back to her. “Drink it all.”

The wolf said nothing else and moved to guard the clearing. Sakura sat in shock, unable to believe what had just happened. He had given her the means to escape! When crushed into water, it would take longer to take effect, but that also meant that it would look more like she regenerated chakra at a very fast rate rather than look like she’d taken a soldier pill.

He was clever.

And he was helping her escape. Perhaps he wasn’t as heartless as she thought he’d been.

Greedily she gulped down the water, screwing up her face in disgust at the bitter taste but already she could feel some chakra replenishing in her system. Only about half an hour more and she’d be fully able to flee.

She wouldn’t try to fight; only escape. So very grateful to have someone with a heart on her side, she planned how she would escape. She would have to mask the extra chakra brewing inside her so that it looked like she only had very little. She had to be convincing so that the cat and the hawk wouldn’t suspect foul play from the wolf. The very least she could do was make sure her savior didn’t get into any trouble.

Soon the cat and the hawk returned, and the wolf nodded at them. “Let’s go.”

They took off to the trees and Sakura relished the chakra that was now quickly returning to her body.

 

* * *

** Chapter Three: Twister **

_~Pray, child, pray for salvation_

_Nothing else can be done for this nation_

_And when you lay in bed at night_

_Hope that someone’s fighting your fight~_

Ω         Ω         Ω

 

“When are you coming to bed, Madara-sama?” asked a coy, feminine voice from the doorway to the Hokage’s office.

Madara ignored her, although silently commended her on her timing. Rima always came just when he needed her. Stress put him in a highly sexual mood, and the stress of capturing his future wife had become great the moment Rorin had sent word that she’d escaped. The squad’s punishment would be harsh; he had recalled the other trailing squad when he’d received word of her capture, needing them for another mission, and on top of it all, Motsu Rorin was _supposed_ to be a highly-acclaimed member of ANBU—meaning there was no way this mission could have failed. This, in turn, meant that either Sakura was even more fit for the place of Uchiha matriarch than he had thought, or there was some foul play going on. He really didn’t want to resort to acknowledging foul play, even though it was probably that, because that would mean they would have to be interrogated and put under watch and _that_ meant that he’d be down another squad of ninja.

He didn’t want to have to put even _one_ shinobi on surveillance unless it was necessary—i.e. Haruno Sakura.

Bringing himself to the present, he acknowledged Rima with a nod before glancing down at the letter Rorin had sent with one of his hawks it was dated to three hours ago, and depending on which direction Sakura had chosen, she could be anywhere from two to four hours away. Rorin had reported that she’d taken off and they’d pursued, but she’d lost them and they were now awaiting further command.

Quickly, Madara wrote a reply in neat, formal kanji and tied it to the leg of the hawk perched on the stand conveniently situated by his desk, awaiting a reply.

Inwardly he rolled his eyes at his decision, but he knew he wouldn’t get another chance like this once Sakura was caught. He looked up at Rima and said, “Rima-chan, I need you to call for Zetsu. He will be standing in for me tonight.”

“Where will you be going?” She raised a thin, perfectly-sculpted black eyebrow and looked him directly in the eye, not something he would let just anybody do without pulling them into a punishing Tsukiyomi. But he’d been using her to sate his lust since he’d become Hokage, and he supposed she could get away with it…this time.

“I have a personal errand to run. Now do so. I must leave.”

Rima hesitated, and he was quickly growing annoyed as he stood and collected his katana from beneath the desk, leaving his gunbai on the wall—he didn’t need it for this mission. He had decided since becoming Hokage that there was no need for the robes and therefore donned the red armor he’d worn before Konoha.

“Go!” he growled, noting that she hadn’t left and was directly disobeying orders.

Rima still stayed in the door. She was certainly pushing her luck…perhaps she thought she’d actually become important to him. “Does that mean you’re not coming to bed tonight?”

Only because of her use to him did he not scold her for being stupid. “ _Rima,_ that is an order.”

She pouted, but scurried away obediently. He frowned. Maybe he would have to find another female to satisfy him in the future; she was obviously growing too bold. His sexual urges would for now go unattended to, simply because he had work to do.

He then reminded himself that he would have to put aside time for Sakura, since she would soon be the Uchiha matriarch and his wife, but that of course didn’t mean he couldn’t have a concubine. Of course, Haruno Sakura was an attractive woman—he would only pick the best of the best to restart the clan with—but he doubted he would find much enjoyment out of her. She was too thin, too small; her breasts were an average size at best and her figure too petite and fragile-looking, although her hips were perfect for child-bearing. That was all he really needed her for.

He stood there, waiting for Zetsu to arrive before he left. The cannibal knew to never waste his time, and within five minutes he appeared from the wall.

“Rima said you wanted us.”

 **“Are you sure we can’t eat her?”** Black Zetsu commented, so quickly after White Zetsu that the words almost slurred.

Madara sighed wearily. “Not yet, Zetsu. I need you to watch over my position while I track down Haruno Sakura.”

“Haruno Sakura? Why her?”

**“She probably tastes delicious…”**

Before he could be held up any longer, Madara said calmly, “She is to be the Uchiha clan matriarch. Her chakra control is perfect, she was the Godaime’s apprentice, and her fertility test results were satisfactory. That is all. I will return by tomorrow.”

Zetsu nodded in acknowledgment and melted into the wall, ready to attack anyone stupid enough to attempt treason.

With that, Madara teleported to the outskirts of Konoha and went on what he knew would be a most satisfying mission.

Ω         Ω         Ω

For probably the millionth time since she’d escaped, she mentally thanked the wolf for what he’d done for her. She had lost them and after four hours of straight travel, she was back out in the wilderness hidden from prying eyes.

She’d set up camp because she knew it would be a while before they got back to Konoha and reported her escape. She was by a river and so had caught a few fish for her dinner, accentuated with a few highly nutritious berries she had picked from a bush.

Sakura leaned back against the tree she was sitting near and sighed. By now the squad would be back in Konoha and as she was _at least_ three and a half hours away, it was probably alright to keep the fire going. She really just wanted to curl up next to it and _sleep_. She was tired and she needed to replenish her chakra after that hard run.

So, after poking the fire a bit with a stick to ensure it stayed strong, she did exactly that: she curled up by the fire and fell into a deep sleep.

Ω         Ω         Ω

 

Something was wrong.

Sakura twitched in her sleep, bringing her to consciousness. However, she did not react, did not move, did not _breathe_. A dangerous, extremely powerful chakra was nearing her and she had to struggle to maintain a façade of slumber.

She could tell by the cool air around her that her fire had probably gone out, but it wasn’t so terribly uncomfortable that she was awoken by it. No, it was the smothering, breath-stealing amount of chakra that was nearing her at a rapid pace that had interrupted her unconsciousness. It was obviously a very powerful shinobi.

The strength of the chakra might have led her to believe it was Naruto, but she knew it wasn’t. Naruto’s chakra was warm and crackled with energy—unless he was angry and the Kyuubi’s chakra blended with his. _That_ was more like what this chakra felt like; dangerous, cunning, _malicious._

She would do well to get out of there _immediately._

Sakura slowly stood, careful not to make any sudden movements. The chakra was frighteningly close now and she knew she had to make a run for it. Now.

She immediately dashed towards toward the nearest tree branch, funneling chakra into the soles of her feet to propel her up.

Unfortunately—because it seemed good fortune had abandoned her—there was a small fallen branch beneath her foot that she’d missed in her sudden rush, and it cracked ominously loud in the silent forest.

The movement of the chakra paused for a split second, and then it was in the clearing she had just jumped onto a tree to escape from.

She froze, so as to not give away her position. She had jumped to the second lowest branch, so she was shrouded somewhat by the surrounding trees. Daring to glance out of the corner of her eyes to see who it was—maybe she didn’t have to run after all—she felt her breath catch in her throat, strangling her in its unwillingness to move.

_Madara._

He had actually come for her himself?

Her limbs froze and her body felt clammy and cold. He…he was really serious about this. He had obviously made a steadfast decision about what to do with her—otherwise he wouldn’t be here in the flesh. He would have just settled for someone else.

It would take a miracle to escape while they were in this close in vicinity. She wasn’t stupid and she knew she couldn’t win against him in combat. Hell, she doubted she could even outrun him.

But, in the teensy-weensy little chance that she could, she would have to try.

She heard a scoff from the clearing and tensed, wishing she had the S-class criminal Zetsu’s ability to blend into surroundings. As it was, she had to remain completely still in order for him to overlook her; her chakra was masked and would remain masked until he was long gone.

“Most disappointing, Sakura-chan.” He spoke confidently, which meant he knew she was there. “Your sensei obviously taught you nothing before he died.”

Sakura stiffened, fury instantly raging inside her at the casual insult he’d just said to herself and Kakashi. Didn’t the man have any propriety? Didn’t he know not to speak ill of the dead?

“A pity, too. Not even Tsunade-chan taught you such a simple lesson; not to leave evidence of your presence, _especially_ when on the run. But then I suppose she was much too busy with her work to pay you much attention, hm?”

Sakura’s blood was boiling. Yes, her shishou had been busy, but she had been the mother she’d never had. She had been an excellent mentor and had made Sakura into who she was today.

“But perhaps it’s not your teachers’ fault. Neither the jinchuuriki nor Sasuke-kun would have made this mistake, would they?”

That was _it!_ She proned herself for an attack. All those scathing remarks for a simple mistake? Why the hell would he even-

 _Oh_. He _wanted_ to make her angry. He _wanted_ her to attack.

Taking the quietest calming breath that she could, she relaxed her muscles. What he said wasn’t true, except for perhaps the last part. But that didn’t matter; she wouldn’t fall for the bait.

There was silence for a long while and if Sakura couldn’t still feel his presence, she would have thought he left. She tensed—maybe now was the time to escape. She just needed a distraction.

It would have been prudent to use a clone, but if she used a jutsu it would reveal her position, especially since he was probably using the Sharingan.

She waited. There was nothing else she could do.

Finally he spoke, but he was much closer. “I’m waiting, Sakura-chan.”

She bit back a growl and shifted slightly, preparing herself for an attack just in case.

 _“Enough of the games.”_ His voice came from right behind her.

She gave out a small cry of surprise and whirled around, chakra-filled fist aimed right at his chest.

The hit landed, much to her surprise, and then the clone disappeared with a poof of smoke.

It was then that she ran.

She used every bit of chakra available to her to rocket through the trees, not caring in which direction she went as long as it was away from Madara.

“I grow bored of this. Do not make this harder than it has to be.”

Sakura turned her head when she realized he was running right beside her, matching her every movement. She knew that if she were to stop, he would simply stop as well and she would be trapped. Might as well keep running.

She poured even more chakra into her speed and then suddenly, on the branch she was leaping towards, Madara appeared. She cried out and tried to stop her trajectory course, but there was no diverting herself.

He caught her, grunting slightly at the force of her impact, and then whirled her around, twisting her arm behind her back.

“Let me go!” she cried, struggling against him. He merely twisted her arm harder and she became afraid it might dislocate her shoulder. However, he didn’t stop twisting until she screamed in pain, panting from the run and the agony that was her left arm.

“Now, there are two ways we can go about this. The most preferable is that you will cooperate and we will return to Konoha peacefully.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she grit out. He’d loosened his grip slightly, so the sharp sting of pain in her arm lessened and she was able to speak.

Madara continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Less preferably, I can put you in a Tsukiyomi for as long as I deem necessary and we will still return to Konoha.” Sakura stiffened. “It is your choice.

“Bastard!” she growled, terror filling her at the thought of being put in a Tsukiyomi. _No._ She would never willingly let that happen.

She would just have to agree to go for now and find a way to escape before they reached Konoha.

Making sure no to acquiesce too quickly, she stood there for a few moments before letting herself fall limp. “I’ll go back with you.”

“Good girl.”

But he did not release her.

Ω         Ω         Ω

Madara was surprised at how comfortable it was having her pressed to him. Even though there was his armor between them, he could tell that she fit perfectly against his body. That didn’t even include that her scent was…intoxicating. She wore no floral scents like the other women he’d slept with and still, hers acted like more of an aphrodisiac than their expensive perfumes. She smelled sweet with no describable word to follow it. Simply…sweet. He’d experienced the most exotic of scents, even those meant to arouse, and nothing compared to hers.

He let himself inhale into her hair deeply, taking in her very essence and felt his cock twitch. She obviously felt him do so and she began to struggle feebly, trying to wriggle free.

“Let me go,” she attempted to say firmly, but he could hear the plea in her voice.

He didn’t comply. “You are aware of why I am here, Sakura.” He intentionally dropped the honorific—a proof of his dominance.

She refused to reply, only struggling more fervently, aiding her movements with chakra.

He gripped her even more firmly, the arm around her waist pinning her to him, but her fighting was only serving to arouse him further. She wore nondescript ninja clothing; a tight black long-sleeved shirt, black spandex pants underneath an olive-green skirt that had slits up the side of her thighs. It wasn’t quite civilian wear, but it didn’t look particularly ninja-like either.

The point was that with her tight clothing, he could feel her movements perfectly, and it was turning him on at a pace that would not allow him to wait until they returned.

Finally, he’d had enough. “If you do not cease your fighting _now,_ you will find yourself in a _very_ compromising situation before we even leave for Konoha.”

She immediately stopped, and he deemed it alright to let go of her. She turned to glare at him, what she might have thought was in an intimidating fashion but was surely not. It was obvious she did not intend to speak to him.

He realized, looking into her defiant verdant green eyes that were staring hard at his chin and avoiding his Sharingan, that he would not be able to wait until Konoha if she kept this up. He did not particularly care to use the forest floor for sex, and he knew for a fact that doing so would make her much harder to control later on as she would certainly not be a willing participant at the moment. So for the sake of both of them, he made an executive decision.

Saying nothing to warn her, Madara gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him. In her split second of shock, she made eye contact and he immediately put her to sleep with a genjutsu.

She slumped immediately and he caught her, soon adjusting her so his right arm supported her neck and shoulders and his left hooked beneath her knees. Once she was secured against him, he quickly took off in the direction of Konoha, forcing down his arousal.

It was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

** Chapter Four: Tornado **

_~The dawn of nightfall is at hand_

_Remember your choice, take a stand_

_You aren’t weak, child, don’t forget who you are_

_You are our hope, our shining star~_

 

Everything felt…fuzzy. She felt a soft, cushiony bed beneath her and felt the thick blanket atop her that kept her warm. She was tired and refused to open her eyes despite her consciousness…so very tired…

That was funny, because she didn’t remember being tired at all last time she was conscious. She didn’t even remember falling asleep. The last thing she remembered was…

Sakura shot up in bed, eyes wide and terrified as she frantically tried to figure out where she was.

The last thing she remembered was Madara’s Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan.

The room was dark. She could feel that she had been lying on a very comfortable and large bed—in her best estimation, a king-size. Frowning, she let her eyes adjust so she could take in more details of the room.

She found the floor was hardwood when she let her bare feet touch the ground. Upon noticing that she did, indeed, have bare feet, she frantically wondered how much of her clothing had been changed.

Gingerly she touched her shirt and immediately knew she was not wearing what she had worn while on the run. She was in a silky dark dress—from what she could tell it was lighter than black, but not by much. As she glanced around the room once more, she realized that she wouldn’t be able to assess her surroundings without light. But she didn’t want to turn on the light in case she was being observed. Better they think she was asleep than that she had awoken; she was terrified of what was to come.

She was obviously back in Konoha—not because she knew it for a fact, but because that was the only place Madara would take her. Ever so slightly she tried to send chakra up to her eyes to get a better picture of the room she was in.

But nothing happened. She couldn’t access her chakra.

Trembling slightly, it was then she noticed the silver bands around her wrists that glinted slightly in the moonlight coming from the window. Weird, she hadn’t noticed it before. The bands were not bulky like chakra bindings, but they seemed to have the same effect. They clung tightly to her skin, not uncomfortably and rather looked like bracelets.

Just from their tightness to her skin could Sakura know that she would not be able to remove them.

Fear threatened to send her into hysterics but she took a few calming breaths to allow her to think clearly.

She walked over to the window, slowly so as to not knock anything over. From there she looked down and knew immediately where she was. It was a view similar to the one she’d had whenever she visited Tsunade in the Hokage mansion.

 _Fuck_ , she mentally swore. She was in Madara’s home. That alone was enough to send shivers of terror down her spine.

Without her chakra, escape was unlikely. She didn’t even know what to do.

So, in her helplessness, she curled into a ball by the window and cried until she fell back asleep.

Ω         Ω         Ω

He frowned, spiky crimson hair glinting in the sunlight as he walked towards the Hokage’s office. Fuu and Riku were already there, but Rorin had taken his time. He was still reeling from that poor girl’s words and the fact that the man he served was capable of doing such a thing.

He did not regret, in the slightest, calling off his comrades from following her. He couldn’t tell them what he knew for fear of punishment, but it was more than clear to him that what he’d done—disobeying orders for the first time in his life—had been the right thing.

Climbing the steps, Rorin reviewed what he could say. He would tell the Hokage exactly what had transpired, not lying outright—he wasn’t sure if the Sharingan could sense such things and he wasn’t about to take his chances. So he would simply omit and that was that.

He knocked, and upon hearing a muffled ‘Enter,’ he walked in.

Fuu and Riku stood at attention and he joined them, standing front and center between them.

“I’m sure you are aware as to why you are here,” Madara began. “Two nights ago I was required to finish the mission that you _failed_.” At this he glanced at Rorin. “I do not wish to hear it from a mission report. _What happened?”_

As team captain, Rorin nodded his head and began. “The target was easy to obtain and we put the chakra-draining cuffs on her as ordered. However, we had to stop during our return trip because she collapsed from lack of food, so in order for her to eat and for us to travel to our destination faster, I ordered the chakra bindings to be removed. However, she regenerated chakra much faster than we could had foreseen and escaped.”

Fuu looked as though he wanted to say something and Madara nodded at him. “She kept her chakra levels masked, Hokage-sama, only revealing that she had more than usual when she fled.”

Riku remained silent as there was nothing more to be said. Madara nodded curtly and looked to Rorin.

“Motsu-san, you have never failed a mission until now. Why is that?”

Rorin purposely relaxed his body before it could stiffen, maintaining a cool façade. “The girl was much trickier than we imagined. I believe her easy capture was meant to lure us into a false sense of security.”

Madara looked to the other two, and they nodded in agreement. Upon their return, the three had discussed how easy it had been to capture her and how it had had to be a ploy.

“Was there, at any point in time, a moment when any of the three of you was alone with her?”

At this question, Rorin had a much harder time staying relaxed. For whatever reason, the Rokudaime suspected foul play, and that would make it much harder to escape from this unscathed.

However, it would look better for him if he said something first, before the others. “I was alone with her. I ordered Fuu and Riku to refill their canteens at a nearby river. I stayed to guard the target.”

Madara raised an eyebrow. “Was this a necessary order?” He looked to Riku and Fuu.

Riku spoke this time. “It was for me. My canteen was nearly empty and we were keeping up the fastest pace possible to return the target quickly, as per orders.”

Rorin forced himself to not relax as Fuu responded, “It was a prudent decision. I was only at halfway and as the captain gave his canteen to the target so she could survive, it was necessary that Riku and I had enough water.”

“Understood.” Madara paused and looked at each of them skeptically for a few moments before continuing. “You are dismissed.” He looked at Rorin hard. “I expect no more failures from you, Motsu, or you will find yourself in an uncomfortable situation. Do you understand?”

Rorin nodded, simply relieved to have gotten away with his good deed. The three of them then left after bowing to the Hokage and the captain could only thank his lucky stars that he had gone undetected.

Ω         Ω         Ω

Sakura frowned lightly at the sunshine glaring down upon her in while she slept. Well, perhaps slept wasn’t the right word, because now she was awake.

She sat up gingerly, rubbing her eyes and taking note of just how sore her body was after falling asleep on the floor by the window. The night’s memories came back to her and she stiffened, glancing around the room to find out where exactly she was now that there was light.

There was a king-sized bed in the upper center of the room, above which was a large uchiwa fan depicting the Uchiha clan’s symbol. To her right was the window where she had fallen asleep and dark navy blue curtains hung from it. The door was directly in front of the bed, and across the bed from her was a desk and a large bookshelf, full of scrolls and books of all kinds.

It was simple, especially for the bedroom of the Hokage, but all Sakura could think about was whether or not this was the place her shishou had slept in times previous. A deep hatred filled her heart and she trembled under the intensity of it. She would kill Madara if it was the last thing she did.

He had taken everything away from her; her friends, her family, her home; everything that she’d ever held dear was now singlehandedly destroyed by this monster of a man. Before she could stop them, tears were running down her cheeks. However, they were not tears of sadness—they were tears of such a potent rage that they could not be held in.

Then her terrible position came to mind. She would _not_ help that bastard restore his cursed clan. She would rather die and that was a fact. Sakura could never bring herself to commit suicide, but she was sure that if she caused him enough trouble he’d get rid of her on his own.

And then yet another thought appeared. He’d probably just find someone else, and then she wouldn’t be alive to do anything about it. She wouldn’t be there to take revenge and she certainly wouldn’t be there to stop any of his plans. She had a feeling he would eventually go after Naruto, and while she trusted her brother-like figure to protect himself, she wanted to help her best friend, protect him as much as she could. Perhaps there she could negotiate; perhaps she could find some sort of solution to this problem that didn’t involve _anybody’s_ death.

She stood gingerly, her tight muscles protesting after sleeping on the hardwood floor. She paid them no mind and walked over to the door, testing the knob. It wasn’t locked, but she could easily sense two bodies of chakra standing outside the door.

Sakura opened it and then stood in the doorway. Two ANBU guards turned to her, alert and ready to restrain her if necessary.

“Stand down,” she said calmly. “I’m not trying to escape.”

“Hokage-sama said you were to remain in this room until he returns,” said the ANBU to the left. Sakura nodded.

“I understand, but I would like to speak with him.” The calmness in her voice was a complete and utter façade.

Her mellow exterior and her soft but firm demands obviously took the guards by surprise. When they said nothing, she continued.

“I would like to speak to him about the conditions of our…arrangement,” she continued, forcing herself to breathe deeply and slowly. She really _didn’t_ want to see Madara, but she knew that she had to for the sake of everything she held dear.

The ANBU to the right nodded once. “We will send word to him. If he approves, then we will escort you there.”

“Thank you,” she replied, shutting the door with a soft _click_. Once inside, she formulated what she was going to do.

She didn’t want to betray any of her friends, but she _had_ to get the attention off herself. If she became pregnant, she would be of little use to anyone. She had to find a way to negotiate out of his plans and somehow strike up a deal to protect her friends. She decided that she would do just about anything other than give birth to his children or do anything to harm her friends. She thought of the things she could do for him; she could find a perfect candidate to bear his children and she could promise to make sure that the children were healthy and strong by being the mother’s personal medic. She could join ANBU and serve under him given that he never sent her after her friends. Hell, she’d do just about anything other than two specific things in order to avoid what was in store for her.

The thing was, she had a feeling he would make her choose. Be the Uchiha matriarch and bear his children or go after her friends. She couldn’t choose either.

Despite that she was one of the top kunoichi of her generation, Tsunade had never forced her to go on any seduction missions, and because of her misguided love for Sasuke she had been unable to choose anyone to take her virginity. That being said, she would _never_ let Madara be her first. She refused, she refused, she _refused._

She tried to think of what she honestly had to offer in her situation. Not much, honestly; other than her skills and what she wasn’t willing to give, she had nothing that could persuade the Rokudaime to see things her way. Sakura gently sat on the bed—normally she would have avoided it but her bones ached from being on the ground and she had no chakra to numb the pain—and thought hard about her options.

There was _one_ option, but…

No. She couldn’t do it. For once in her life, she really wanted to be selfish. She’d given so much already, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to just take a little in return, would it?

Perhaps she could strike a deal with Madara: if she willing gave him an heir, he had to forever call off any searches for her friends. He had to leave everyone close to her who was still alive to her knowledge—she would give specific names—amnesty from any kind of punishment. He had to let them live in peace.

In the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t so bad, was it? He no longer needed to summon the ten-tails. He already had the eight other jinchuuriki’s demons, he didn’t need Naruto’s, right?

The more she thought about it, she realized what she had to do.

 _It’s fair_ , she thought, and then she realized it really wasn’t.

She was going to have to give herself—at least her body, she didn’t think he’d demand much else—to him, and she would never see her friends again, who she was sacrificing all this for.

For once, she really, _really_ wanted to be selfish. She didn’t want to be the sacrificial lamb, so to speak.

But maybe it was for the best, right? If Naruto or any of the others found out about what she’d done, or rather, let Madara do, they would never forgive her…unless they understood that she’d had no other choice. Her options were few, and with that final thought, she made her decision.

She would give Madara her compliance in return for her friends’ safety.

As soon as she realized what she was deciding to do, Sakura felt hot tears fill her eyes. Why were the Kami asking so much of her? Certainly she hadn’t done something so bad in her past that she deserved this kind of fate. Other than her fangirl days with Sasuke, she had always put her devotion to others first. Was she cursed to always have to put others before herself?

Burning tears trailed down her cheeks and dripped from her chin onto the pillow she clung to, having grabbed it unwittingly. This was _so_ unfair. She couldn’t see how her life could get any worse; there was no possible way anything could be more unjust. She cried softly into the pillow, sobbing quietly and gripping it like a lifeline.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Sakura straightened immediately, threw the pillow to the side, and wiped her tears. There was nothing she could do about her red-rimmed eyes or stained cheeks, but that was fine. By the time they reached the Hokage tower, she’d look normal.

Sakura stood up and went to the door, opening it swiftly.

“What did he say?” she asked, first clearing her throat of any hoarseness.

“The Hokage said you may meet with him,” said the ANBU guard to the right. “He said you have fifteen minutes to plead your case and he will make a decision from there.”

 _Fifteen minutes is enough…_ she thought to herself. There wasn’t much explanation needed.

Sakura nodded and stepped out of the room. “Follow us,” the same ANBU said, and they continued through the Hokage mansion until they reached the front door. Sakura wasn’t surprised to see two ANBU at the front door on either side, although it wasn’t like Madara needed much protection. Other than Naruto, he was probably the strongest shinobi alive.

They walked down the path dividing the front garden and soon where taking the stairs down from the Hokage mountain, atop which the Hokage mansion stood. If she had had her chakra, they could have been there by now, but as it were, they’d have to take the civilian route.

However, soon enough they were at the bottom and were walking down the street to the tower. Sakura observed the scenery around her. There was wreckage from the army of Zetsus’ attack, but it was being worked on. People—well, civilians—went about their days as usual, although there was a clear undertone of fear in everything they did. Men were constantly looking over their shoulders warily and the women clung to their men and kept their children close. More noticeably, no one walked anywhere alone.

It both saddened and angered Sakura that this was what Konoha was now: a place of fear and destruction. It wasn’t her home anymore, not like it had been under any of the other Hokages’ rule. This was a place where war had obviously happened, where lives had been lost and ways of life had been changed.

This was not the Konoha she knew and loved.

They reached the Hokage tower soon enough and once inside, the ANBU guards passed her off to another pair of shinobi, this time chuunin. Sakura surmised that Madara would sense anyone in or out of the tower and if there was a threat, didn’t need high-class ninja to eliminate them for him. It was obvious that bloodthirstiness was an ingrained part of Madara’s personality; he probably took pleasure in killing those who sought to harm him.

Sakura shivered, once more remembering what she was giving up.

When they reached the top, the chuunin left Sakura to herself, visible shudders going down their backs. Sakura took and deep breath, nodded to herself, and then knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

She took another deep, steadying breath and opened the door.

The Hokage’s office was still the same office that she had seen her shishou work in for all those years. She swallowed hard. The only difference was that Madara’s gunbai hung on the wall behind him and the Uchiha symbol had been plastered on every wall.

“Do not forget you have _only_ fifteen minutes,” he said, not looking up from his work. He had obvious noticed her staring at the subtle but disturbing changes to the office.

She cleared her throat. “I want to make a deal with you.”

Madara paused and looked up at her skeptically with an eyebrow raised. “That is obvious, Sakura. Hurry up or I will lose my patience. There is much to be done.”

Sakura took a deep breath, but no matter how much she tried she couldn’t bring herself to make direct eye contact with him. The sharingan, no matter what the form, was always terrifying to her.

“As you are aware due to my attempt to escape, I am not a willing participant in your plans for resurrecting the Uchiha clan.”

Madara quirked an eyebrow, not deeming that statement worthy of an answer.

She ground her teeth, torn between fear and frustration. He could at least pretend to be interested!

She went on, mentally steadying herself, even though as she spoke her stomach knotted itself and made her feel sick. “I want to offer my cooperation in return for my friends’ permanent safety.”

Madara sighed. “I expected as much. It is as I’ve heard; you’ve always put others before yourself, hm?” He smirked at her mockingly.

Sakura clenched her jaw to reign in her emotions.

“What you obviously do not understand, Sakura,” she noticed that he continued to refer to her _very_ familiarly and with no honorific, “is that I do not need your compliance to get what I want.”

Her jaw dropped, all thoughts of holding back emotion gone. “You would rape me?” she demanded furiously.

Madara looked at her with the utmost boredom. “Call it whatever you wish. I will take whatever I please however I need it. This world is my oyster.”

“You sick bastard!” she shouted, clenching her fists and moving into a fighting stance without thinking. “You can’t just do whatever you want!”

“And what’s stopping me, Sakura?” His tone was amused. He’d even propped his elbow on the desk and was resting his chin in his hand, apparently enjoying the show.

“It doesn’t matter if anything’s stopping you! You have to think about what other people want, what other people need! That’s what a _good_ Hokage does! But apparently, you don’t qualify!”

There was a flash of movement and Sakura belatedly realized that she’d crossed the line. She swerved out of the way just in time, evading his grasp by a hair’s breadth.

He stood before her, and now that he was so tall and staring coldly down at her, Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan whirling, Sakura felt true fear for her life.

“You doubt my place as Hokage, hm?” he demanded. “That is a dangerous place to be when insubordination means _death_.”

Sakura figured that if this was it, she might as well go out with a bang. “I’d rather die than do what you want me to do,” she hissed.

“Tempting as it is, little girl, you are of more use to me alive. Understand this: no one, not even your beloved _friends,_ can stop me. They are but the smallest of annoyances, and they will soon cease to exist,” he said, smirking cruelly. “The answer to your request is no. I still require the nine-tailed fox.” He then snapped his fingers and two ANBU appeared, ready to escort her out.

“No! Please don’t hurt him! Why do you need him?” she begged, her knees weak beneath her.

The two ANBU guards walked to her side, not restraining her unless their Hokage requested it.

Madara laughed coldly. “Have you ever heard of the Rikudou Sennin?”

That was enough answer for her. If Madara became the second Rikudou Sennin…no one would ever defeat him. He would rule…forever. He had attained immortality in his resurrection, after all.

“No…no, you can’t do that…” Sakura felt sick. She was going to be sick…

“I will see you tonight, Sakura.” His voice was tainted with lust. Madara looked to the ANBU. “Prepare her. I do not want her fighting me.”

“No! Please!” she begged. “No! You can’t! Please, no!”

Madara’s lips thinned. “Restrain her.” At his command, both of the ANBU gripped her arms. What they didn’t realize was that they were more supporting her in standing than restraining her. “Leave. Permission granted to take her there with means of chakra.”

The ANBU nodded, Sakura was hoisted over one of their shoulders—for some reason, he seemed familiar—and soon she was back in Madara’s bedroom. As soon as she was released, she ran to the nearest trashcan and vomited.

  

* * *

 

 

** Chapter Five: Calm Before the Storm **

_~Fight, child, fight to protect_

_Those you hold dear, those you can expect_

_To hold you up when everything is wrong_

_Let them help you child, you’re not too far gone~_

 

Rorin remained by Sakura’s side, watching her vomit and sob as she did so. He watched her placidly—but only on the exterior. He couldn’t imagine the pain she was going through, much less the pain she was about to go through.

It took a while for her to recover and notice his presence. When she finally did, she whirled around, glaring.

“Who are you and why are you here?” she spat angrily. “I don’t need to be watched over like a child!”

Rorin flinched at the venom in her voice and quickly removed his mask, then remembered that she had never seen his face before. When she looked at him, shocked and confused, he spoke.

“My name is Motsu Rorin. I…” he trailed off as he thought how to keep the secret of her escape concealed. “I was there when you escaped.”

He held up the mask, showing the wolf-face he typically wore.

Her eyes widened. “Oh,” she said, voice softer. “But still, why are you here?”

He could feel the ANBU on the other side and he knew they were listening. “I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said honestly. “I know you’re unhappy here.”

Sakura slumped, but said coldly, “Why do you even care?”

Rorin paused. There was nothing he could say that would not be incriminating. “I simply want to aid the Hokage,” he said, but before she could react, he shook his head. _‘Quiet. They’re listening,’_ he mouthed.

Looking even more confused, Sakura nodded, but responded as though what he said aloud was all he’d said. “Of course,” she replied coldly. “That’s all anybody cares about, right? Nothing about the villagers, nothing even about the ninja who work for him.” _‘Why are you really here?’_

 _‘I don’t agree with this.’_ “What Hokage-sama does is best for the village. I only want to ensure that you behave.”

“Like I’m going to have a choice. He’ll probably tie me up if I fight,” she spat, tears spilling from her eyes again and her voice cracking. _‘There’s nothing you can do.’_

 _‘They’re going to give you aphrodisiacs. At least now you know and you won’t feel any guilt for what will happen.’_ “That’s why you shouldn’t fight.”

Sakura’s face lit up. _‘Thank you, I know how to deal with aphrodisiacs.’_ “You should leave,” she spat angrily, and although he could tell it was obviously contrived, no one listening would.

 _‘If you need anything, I will try to help. But don’t ask for me specifically.’_ “As you wish, _hime_ ,” his voice was mocking at the insult, and now nobody would suspect that he had actually been helping her.

“Get out!” _‘Thank you so much.’_

Rorin ‘poofed’ away.

Ω         Ω         Ω

When they came with her meal that night, Sakura assumed that was where the aphrodisiacs were hidden. She still ate it, knowing she would need her strength, and she could clearly taste their bittersweet flavor in the blander food.

A little while after eating, Sakura wobbled over to the door and knocked on it. The ANBU opened in it and Sakura collapsed to her knees, clutching her stomach. “My stomach hurts, really bad. I think I’m going to be sick,” she said, threatening them with the loss of the aphrodisiacs.

The ANBU looked at each other, concern evident.

“I think that a few red clover leaves would help. I’m a medic,” she said, before faking a loud groan and then triggering her gag reflex purposely. Knowing they would listen, she crawled over to the trashcan and pretended to heave.

The ANBU nodded from her peripheral vision and the door shut as one of them disappeared. She grinned inwardly but kept making heaving sounds, although not actually throwing up. That wasn’t necessary.

It didn’t take long for the ANBU to return and hand her a small bag of the leaves. She nodded to them, wincing as she clenched her stomach muscles. “Thank you.” She chewed and dry-swallowed them, then crawled for the half-empty glass of water on the ground by the bed, where she’d eaten. She drank greedily, having hated to have to save it, and then nodded, fake-wincing. “Thank you. I’ll be better soon, I’m sure.”

The ANBU looked at her warily but nodded silently and closed the door again. When she was sure they were gone, she inwardly cheered. She’d done it!

The truth was that they had been fast-acting aphrodisiacs so the red clover would clear out most of the erotic drugs once they reached her bloodstream. Worst-case scenario, she’d feel slightly more stimulated when touched physically, but she wouldn’t, by any means, be wanton with lust. Now she would be able to fight and could acknowledge that it was rape and there would be no blurred lines. That is, if no miracle happened and saved her.

She couldn’t help but hang on to the tiny thread of hope that Madara would be distracted and she would be given more time to find a way to escape. Sakura glanced down at the chakra-binding bracelets on her wrists. She would find a way to break the seal…

She inspected them further. They had to have expanded to fit on her in the first place…so maybe trying to expand them again would work?

The problem came back to the fact that she didn’t have any chakra to work with…she felt for it, certain it would be futile, and then suddenly sat back in shock.

_The bracelets weren’t sealing her chakra!_

It was something else…and it was in her bloodstream.

The red clover, which had really been for the aphrodisiacs, was actually clearing out the toxin that had sealed her chakra.

Frantically, she checked her arms for puncture wounds, hoping that her thoughts were true. She noticed she’d been given a long-sleeved dress—she’d thought that it was because it was cold, but when she pulled up her sleeves, she found needle tracks on _both_ her arms. They’d probably given her an immense amount when she’d been under Madara’s genjustu.

Then just the little amount she’d been given wouldn’t be enough. She crawled back over to the door and ‘weakly’ opened it. “I need more,” she said, sounding sick.

“How much?” the ANBU to her left demanded, sounding irritated.

“Well…if that didn’t work, I’ll need five big leaves,” she said, then faked a gag. “Hurry, I think I’m going to-” She retched, but made sure nothing came out.

“Get them,” the left ANBU said. “Quick. You stay here until we get the herbs.”

Sakura nodded, and curled up into the fetal position to continue her façade of nausea. Within five minutes the ANBU returned with the leaves.

“I got you six. Hokage-sama will be here soon,” he said. Sakura nodded wearily and took the herbs, eating them quickly and cringing at the bitter taste. She stood ‘shakily’ and went to wash it down with the very last of her water.

“I think I’ll be okay,” she said quietly. “Can I be left alone for a little while?” They seemed reluctant to leave her by herself.

“Fine. Don’t pull anything funny,” said the temperamental left ANBU.

Sakura nodded, laughing at them in her head.

They closed the door and Sakura checked for her chakra. In a few minutes it would be all there. She walked over to the window, staring out and planning. She could jump from the window once she’d teleported out and then let herself free-fall from the ledge until she got a grip on one of the Hokage Mountain’s grooves or ledges. They’d know she had escaped by then and she’d have to make a dash for it.

She felt for her Yin Seal. That might have to be used if she needed the chakra to escape.

She’d run hard and fast for as long as possible. She’d go towards Wind, where hopefully Gaara would know where Naruto was, even if he was only Kazekage in name. Then…then she’d find her best friend.

Sakura felt her chakra at full-capacity and brought her hands to her front, readying to do the hand seals.

“I find it amusing that you tricked my guards into aiding you,” came a deep voice. Sakura froze, only having done one seal. “However, I do not find it so amusing that you are attempting to escape… _again_.”

She whirled around, pumping chakra to her fists and ready to strike if he came within range.

Madara allowed himself an eye roll. “Don’t insult me, Sakura. You couldn’t lay a hand on me if you tried.”

She moved into a fighting stance, backing up a few steps to prepare to throw herself out the window. A single eyebrow raised curiously, and before she could catapult herself backwards with chakra-enhanced feet, Madara was restraining her.

“Let me go, bastard!” she yelled. She pumped chakra into her fists to hit him with, but he…

Caught it?

She was stunned. He had just caught one of her deadly punches with a _single hand?_

There was no escaping now.

Madara dragged her over to the bed and pinned her down, not releasing her for a second. He withdrew a needle from his pocket. “This was to be administered by one of the nurses after our consummation,” he said. “How unfortunate for you. I will not be nearly as gentle as they would have been.”

Sakura thrashed, letting out a loud, and quite frankly terrified scream, but Madara pinned her right arm with one hand and put his knee on her left forearm to disable it. He ripped the sleeve from her forearm and without much care for her pain, his slid the needle into her right arm and injected the clear chakra-sealing fluid.

She let out another wail as the liquid burned throughout her body. She could _feel_ the fluid sealing her chakra and it was incredibly painful. He got off from on top of her and then began to undress. She would have tried to run, but the feeling of her very blood burning in her body left her incapacitated. Sakura soon found that tears were streaming down her cheeks, but barely felt them through the agony from the chakra-sealer. She choked out the occasional whimper or scream, but overall the pain was too overwhelming to do much of anything.

Eventually, it was too much. Her eyelids fluttered and she saw black.

Ω         Ω         Ω

Madara glanced over at the unconscious young woman lying on his bed. He’d assumed such a thing would happen after the injection; the nurse Kyoko had mentioned that it might be a problem if he needed her awake. When he had gone to strip, he hadn’t intended to take everything off—just the armor and his outerwear. He stood in a tight black undershirt and similar-fitting black pants, sandals kicked to the side.

He turned on the lights in the room and went over to the desk, pulling out the chair and picking up the scroll on the desk. It concerned political matters and as he read it his mind wandered.

It had truly irked him when she’d accused him of not being a good Hokage. Her fiery spirit both enraged and aroused him. He’d never had anyone speak to him like that without great repercussion, but she’d somehow given him the slip. While it occurred to him that he should certainly follow up on that, he knew that he wouldn’t. He had to enforce a calm but fair hand with her as she would be his children’s mother and the Uchiha matriarch.

Memories of the night he’d recaptured her flashed through his mind. She had been so petite against his body, her wriggling form tempting his body with fantasies she would certainly not enjoy.

But _he_ would, and he was in charge of what happened to her.

The report was mind-numbing and he found himself becoming ever more impatient for the twitch of awakening he was watching for.

He observed her body, small chest rising softly and slowly as she remained unconscious. Putting down the scroll, he walked over to her. It would’ve been accurate to say he was entranced with her, but his guard never lowered and he never lost awareness of his surroundings.

As she slept he ran a finger from her cheek, down the valley of her breasts, and then molded his hand to her hips. Her skin was soft and supple, but there was a clear layer of muscle beneath it. As he stared at her, lighting kneading her hip, he felt himself harden. She was a virgin, and by all means it would be right to be gentle with her, but he was filled with such overwhelming lust for her body that he didn’t want to—not couldn’t—restrain himself. He decided it depended on how compliant she would be, how responsive her body was to his touch.

Signs of her awakening came eventually. Her hand twitched at the wrist, as though moving to grab for something—or, he thought, to push something off—and then her eyes opened slowly as her most recent memories were assumedly recalled.

It seemed she remembered rather quickly because she sat up jerkily, gripping her head with one hand and using the other to support herself. Then she noticed his proximity and she shrieked, backing away from his hand.

The night had begun.

 

* * *

 

Chapter Six: Hurricane

_~The time has come, child, to play your part_

_Close your eyes, seal off your heart_

_The pain will ebb as the wounds will seal_

_Just don’t let it in until you’re ready to feel~_

 

“Don’t touch me!” she said angrily, voice raspy from unconsciousness.

“You don’t much of a choice, Sakura,” he replied calmly. “However, how tonight goes is entirely up to you.”

She bared her teeth at him, growling, “Then let me go!”

“Unfortunately for you, that is not an option.” With that, he pulled his black shirt over his head and then got on the bed, clothing discarded.

Sakura rolled away from him, attempting to flee the bed, but sitting calmly he grabbed her ankle and slid her toward him. The dress rolled up, showing her pink panties, and she blushed brightly before reaching to grab his wrist and remove it.

He caught the other hand and yanked her into him. “Let me go, you bastard!” she yelled, but keeping her right hand grasped tightly, he pinned her down.

“That is no way to talk to your future husband, now is it?” he purred, watching with delight as she shivered.

“I’ll never marry you! I’ll never-”

He caught her lips in a hot, demanding kiss, under which she froze. He bit her lower lip gently to indicate what he wanted but she clenched her jaw tightly. Growling softly, he reached down and trailed his fingertips up her stomach, foregoing the protection of the dress, and slipped them under her bra to tweak her one of her nipples.

It was obvious she’d never had this kind of attention before because she gasped, allowing him to thrust his tongue into her mouth. Any thought of being gentle with her evaporated when he tasted her. She was so sweet, like strawberries and cream, and yet so exotic, like a rare floral blossom.

He continued to thumb her nipple gently, giving her time to decide whether she was going to make this easy for the both of them—although admittedly it would be easier on her, as she was the virgin—or if she was going to fight and have her first time be a memorably bad experience. Either way would suit him; it was up to her to decide.

When the shock wore off from her initial reaction, she quickly showed him how it was going to be. She tried to buck him off, but all it did was roll her hips against his and make him growl into her mouth heatedly. As soon as that failed, she jerked her mouth away from the kiss and her decision became apparent.

She was going to fight.

If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he was pleased. He hadn’t wanted to be gentle with her; he wanted to enjoy her body to its fullest and now, he could do that.

Without hesitating, he ripped her dress down the middle, baring her to him. She cried out and struggled vehemently, trying to kick him. He expertly settled between her thighs and tore the flimsy bra off. Having released her left arm in the process, she tried to claw at him, but he quickly re-pinned her.

“Get off, you bastard!” she yelled, thrashing to the best of her ability beneath him. “I’ll fucking scream!”

“Such a dirty mouth,” he commented heatedly, claiming her lips once more. He shoved his tongue back into her mouth, just to taste her sweetness, and she bit him.

He retreated quickly and glared at her, which caused her to shiver fearfully. Good; she needed to be afraid. After that, he was determined to punish her as much as he deemed necessary.

“You will regret that,” he hissed, tasting blood in his mouth. He ignored the iron flavor and decided he didn’t care if she was aroused—she needed to know who was in charge.

Madara quickly did away with her panties. She glared at him hard and he swiftly activated his sharingan at her mistake, sending her into a genjutsu that would surely terrify her—one that depicted just how her night was going to go.

With her trapped in a genjustu, he removed the rest of his clothing and positioned himself to enter her. The vengeful part of him—and it was quite a large part—wanted to hear her scream of pain as he took her virginity. He released the genjutsu just as he pressed against her, but waited for her to realize it was an illusion.

When she realized what she’d just gone through was a genjutsu and not reality, she relaxed instinctively and he gripped her chin and made her look at him, his sharingan deactivated.

“You will learn to respect me,” he growled, and her eyes widened at her reality. She began to struggle, but he would have none of it, and quickly he thrust into her, filling her entirely. Kami, she was tight.

He was going to enjoy this.

Ω         Ω         Ω

Sakura let out a sharp scream of pain, feeling him tear brutally through her hymen. He wasted no time; he immediately started thrusting in and out of her hard and fast. She grit her teeth but could not suppress the loud whimpers of agony. Feeling him moving inside her like this foretold that he was ripping her walls with his brutality and obviously had no care for her comfort.

Her anger was deteriorating quickly at this unknown pain. She could have withstood any kind of physical or mental torture, but had no experience with this new, sexual torture, and it was breaking her down quickly.

As Madara continued to pound into her, she finally cried out desperately, “Please! Stop!”

“You chose this for yourself,” he replied coldly. From then on he ignored her and continued. Sakura felt tears well up in her eyes and then stream down her face. It became a mantra of whimpers: “Please, please, please, stop, stop, please, please…”

Suddenly he paused, as though her pleas had been answered.

But they had not.

He had bored of the position and pulled out, roughly flipping her on her stomach before thrusting back into her, forcing her hips to move with his. She screamed at this new vulnerability and he seemed to move even more violently as she cried out. Sakura gripped the pillows and sobbed into them as he took her, pulling her hips towards him with every forward thrust. The pain was immense and she couldn’t take it anymore; she tried to pull on her chakra to ease the pain, but was met with nothing—it was totally suppressed.

Suddenly she felt the heat of his ejaculation inside of her, heard his grunts of pleasure at the orgasm. She wilted in relief that it was over with.

He pulled out of her and flipped her over again, revealing her red, tear-stained face.

Anger returned. “You’ll never get me pregnant,” she spat. “Your attempts are futile.”

Madara smirked down at her, still panting slightly from his climax. “If you are referring to your chakra-sustained birth control, the chakra suppressors nullify it. When it blocks off your chakra, it stops _any_ of it from flowing through your system…”

Sakura’s eyes widened in terror. “No!”

“…but since you are so convinced, perhaps we should try again?”

“NO!”

How was he still hard? No, she couldn’t take that again! No!

He ignored her and, lifting both her legs over his shoulders and forcing her wrists beneath her back, found her opening and thrust back into her.

“PLEASE!”

He began to ravage her once more.

Ω         Ω         Ω

Her sobbing was music to his ears. After this, she would never disrespect him again.

She was so tight, and the blood from her broken hymen and his ejaculation lubricated her walls enough to make it vastly enjoyable. At this easy penetration, he could take advantage of everything her body had to offer.

He let go of her hands long enough to cast a jutsu to paralyze her arms, effectively stopping her from struggling.

A thought occurred to him as he took her breasts in his hands, beginning to knead. Not only would she need to respect him, he needed to _break_ her into total submission for the best results…and he knew shame was a perfectly acceptable way to break a person’s mind.

He slowed his pace and her sobs quieted slightly. Madara began to play more sensually with her breasts, rolling her hardening nipples between each forefinger and thumb. She inhaled sharply and thrashed despite her arms’ unresponsiveness. He could feel her walls become wetter, this time with her slight arousal.

Yes, he very much appreciated the genius of his mind.

He had already located her sensitive bundle of nerves and began to angle his thrusts to tap it gently, easing her body into arousal.

She wasn’t crying anymore. “You…bastard…” she gasped, unable to fight the pleasure coursing through her veins.

He smirked and upped the pressure he was applying, moving steadily faster. It was obvious she was fighting with herself; her eyes were closed and her jaw clenched.

Madara began to fill her completely with his length with each thrust, still angled to pleasure her. A moan escaped her, strangled and strained, and she began to spasm around his cock.

He growled at the strain it put on his composure. Never before had he experienced a woman whose body was so inclined for pleasuring a male—none of his other women had ever had the muscle tone and tight body that Sakura had. When she began to cooperate—and she would, eventually—he could safely say the sex would be the most amazing he would ever have.

However, he was able to restrain from coming inside her a second time and he spurred her towards a second climax, her slickness sending sparks of electricity through his cock and to the rest of his body. Madara soon began to lose control and was again taking her roughly.

To his definite pleasure and surprise, she was still responsive despite his intense speed. He felt her climax again around him and she couldn’t stop the scream that escaped her. At her arousing sounds and the tightness of her body, he couldn’t resist—he let himself come again inside of her.

He was spent. He normally had much more stamina, and he would have been able to maintain longer if it hadn’t been for how immensely pleasing her body was. He would have to adjust to this new extent of pleasure.

He released her and cast a sleeping genjutsu over her, not wishing to deal with her fighting further. He was aware that he’d just taken her against her will, but he wasn’t heartless—he gently tucked her beneath the blankets and then did the same for himself before letting the complete and utter exhaustion take over and falling asleep.

* * *

 

Chapter Seven: Drizzle

_~Feel the pain, child, feel your hate_

_Let them wash over you and seal your fate_

_You are no more trapped than you deem yourself_

_Now is not the time to flee, but feel no guilt~_

 

When the Rokudaime awoke the next morning, it was distinctly possible that he’d never woken up so satisfied at any other point in either of his times alive.

Sakura was still deep in his genjutsu, but she had rolled up against him in her sleep and her soft, warm breaths caressed his bare chest teasingly. He lay on his back with his arm around her—not intentionally, he had simply fallen asleep that way and she’d rolled over into him—and her balled fist lay on his stomach as she subconsciously clenched it in her sleep.

Madara was not what one would deem a ‘cuddler,’ but he had to admit to himself that this position was acceptable. In fact, he could feel his cock hardening in agreement. Her bent knee rested atop his thigh and all he could think about was climbing on top of her and thrusting into her hot core.

He glanced out the window. The curtain hadn’t been drawn the night before due to his desire to have Sakura and the morning sunrise was barely peeking through. Madara had always been an early riser; he appreciated the peace it brought when no one else was awake. At the same time as his peaceful reverie, however, he direly needed to be inside his wife-to-be.

He dispelled the genjutsu, immediately pressing his lips against hers before she could realize what was going on and begin to struggle. However, it didn’t take her long to when he had rolled on top of her, his lips moving down to her slender neck to suck and bite.

She let out a piercing scream of alarm and fear when she fully understood what was going on and what was going to happen, which strangely excited him. He bit down harshly into her neck, suckling the tender flesh and tasting her sweet skin. She writhed and struggled beneath him, kicking out and beating against him with her fists, but none of it deterred him. Distantly he realized he was truly raping her this time and without good reason; she might have been willing if he’d given her the chance, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. The truth was that he hadn’t wanted to wait, that he was already addicted to her after the first time and had a need that wouldn’t allow itself to go unsatisfied.

Quickly, he gripped her arms and pushed them down while forcefully spreading her thighs with his knees. His cock was already throbbing with arousal and he couldn’t wait much longer.

Sakura was breathing in quick heaves of terror. “Please,” she panted, “Please no!”

Finishing with the love mark he had left on her neck, Madara ignored her and pressed his lips against hers. Given that she had bitten him the night before, it was merely to silence her as he guided himself into her opening and thrust into her core. He let out a low growl as he felt her walls clench around him and he let loose, pounding in and out of her to achieve the highest pleasure from her body.

Sakura let out a loud wail of pain and struggled ferociously. Normally he knew he would have tried to make her enjoy it, especially since he’d had such wonderful success the night before, but he didn’t have the patience. He thrust faster and harder into her, filling her to the core and then some with his length. Madara increased the pace until finally he was coming inside of her, pounding into her until the very last bit of seed had been milked from his cock.

At this point she was sobbing raggedly and completely still, her eyes closed and her body trembling. Immediately as he released her he felt a vague sense of guilt, as it had truly been unnecessary to take her in such a way. However, Madara was not one for self-castigation and, accepting his actions for what they had been, withdrew from her body and left to go take a shower.

After all, he had a long day at the office before he could enjoy her again.

Ω         Ω         Ω

Sakura still lay trembling, her body quivering with pain, long after Madara left and did not return. Her abdomen and nether regions throbbed with raw pain, her emotions were scattered and distorted, and her mind felt broken.

While she had no idea how she’d fallen asleep after he’d raped her the night before, nor had any recollection of how she’d felt afterwards, she was quite aware how she felt after this most previous ravaging and the results were not good.

She knew that killing herself wasn’t an option for a strong kunoichi like her, but given the evidence she had been presented with that she was most likely going to be continually raped for the rest of her life, she didn’t feel much vigor for stay alive at the moment.

Sakura felt truly hopeless.

Finally she gathered the strength to sit up but tears immediately began to fall again when the aftereffects of her raping became acutely clearer. She wouldn’t be surprised if there was internal bleeding, but of course she had no chakra to heal herself with and she doubted he cared enough to have someone else fix it for her.

She began to cry again. She felt as helpless now as she had when Sasuke had left for Orochimaru; unable to do anything to help her friends or herself. She was _weak_ again, _weak_ and _useless_. Given her track record, she wouldn’t doubt that Madara thought she was annoying as well. He and Sasuke were related after all, right?

At least she knew this had nothing to do with Sasuke himself—it had to do with her emotional problems after Sasuke had left. She hadn’t loved the raven-haired boy in a long time, but it decidedly stung that it was still an Uchiha who had managed to grab ahold of her, willing or not, and that she would still have the last name Uchiha albeit under totally different circumstances than those she had dreamed of when she was twelve.

But she wasn’t twelve anymore and that circumstance she had dreamed of was long gone with Sasuke’s betrayal. She was twenty-four and she was no longer the girl she had been back then. She’d trained under the legendary Tsunade herself and she had become strong. She had killed Akasuna no Sasori and her best friend was the strongest ninja in the world, she reminded herself. _She wasn’t_ _weak anymore._ Now was not the time to be regressing. If anything, it was time to become even stronger than before.

Sakura slumped back against the pillows, wincing as her abdomen protested the movement. Now was the time to become even stronger, but she had no idea how to accomplish that.

Finally she gained the motivation to move again when the door was knocked on three times. She told the person to wait as she frantically searched for something to cover herself—she was still naked from the night before. She eventually donned a black shirt and some oversized pants that unfortunately belonged to Madara before reluctantly calling for them to enter. An ANBU stepped in with a tray of onigiri and a glass of water.

“The Hokage had this sent for you. He said to eat all of it to regain your strength.”

She shuddered at the mention of her rapist but otherwise stayed calm. Nodding, she sat up and allowed the ANBU to bring the tray to her. Careful to rest the food on her legs and not anywhere near her injured body, she waved the ANBU away so she could eat. She snorted at herself when she realized that she was acting awfully like an aristocrat, but she supposed that since she was going to be forced into a similar position it wasn’t a big deal. She didn’t really feel all that friendly to the ANBU division or really any ninja at all who served under Madara.

Sakura ate slowly, feeling pointedly lonely. She had no one to talk to here. She was truly alone…

Memories of the night before flashed back to her and she remembered Rorin. Even though she knew nothing about him other than that he was a ninja who knew when an order was wrong and was willing to disobey it, and his name, she felt like he was an ally somehow. He’d said not to call for him specifically, but she was sure she could come up with an excuse to see him.

Besides, she was going to be the Hokage’s wife, right? They still viewed her as a prisoner because of Madara, but surely she could make some demands as long as it didn’t go against anything Madara ordered.

Finished with her food and ready to act every bit the snobby matriarch she was being forced to be, Sakura shakily stood and walked to the door. With every step she cursed that she couldn’t use chakra to ease the pain, but she wasn’t a ninja if she couldn’t handle a little pain—no matter how unconventionally she’d received it.

She opened the door, almost scoffing at how the guards stiffened immediately when she poked her head out.

“I want to see Motsu Rorin,” she demanded.

The ANBU with a rabbit mask responded coldly, “Why?”

Sakura huffed. “I’m going to be the Hokage’s wife. Aren’t I allowed to see who I want?”

Both ANBU didn’t seem to know how to respond to this. It made sense, really. Yesterday she’d been the unwilling captive who would do anything to escape, now she was acting as though she was an entitled participant in this affair and should be treated with respect. She was pointedly showing no signs of being a prisoner and that was probably the most baffling part.

“We have to clear it with the Hokage,” the deer on the left said, his words certain while his tone uncertain.

Sakura nodded, rolling her eyes, and then said boredly, “Just tell him I want to take a walk in the garden. And that I promise not to do anything stupid.”

They both shrugged noncommittally and as she was closing the door, she heard one of them call for another ninja.

After she thought about it, she figured it was highly unlikely that she’d get her wish, but if there was any smidgeon of Madara that had any sympathy for her situation, maybe it’d be granted.

Although looking back at her actions, she doubted it even more.

Sighing wearily, Sakura lay back down on the bed and closed her eyes, falling into a meditation to attempt to forget the pain.

Ω         Ω         Ω

“Haruno Sakura requests to walk in the Hokage mansion gardens with Motsu Rorin. She also wanted to relay that she ‘promises not to do anything stupid,’” said the chuunin standing in front of him, eyes lowered to the ground respectfully.

Madara raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Why would she request _Rorin_ of all people? Was it because under the ANBU captain’s watch she had escaped?

Then again, it _was_ a different situation now. Her chakra would be suppressed for at least 24 more hours and Rorin knew that if he messed this up, it would mean his death. No ninja was that stupid, especially not one of Rorin’s capacity.

He was about to reply with a surefire no, she could sit in the room and be bored all day, when a sharp stab of guilt pierced him. It was directly related to how he’d taken her that morning and if there was one thing foreign to him, it was guilt. Her pitiful appearance after he’d finished had somehow left a mark on him and he wished for that to go away.

It would be justifiable that if he allowed her this when he normally wouldn’t that he would by every right have repaid the debt of his questionable deed and there would be no reason for guilt anymore. With that in mind he said, “Her request in granted. No more than thirty minutes, however, and they are to be supervised from a distance. Their supervisor is not to be detected.”

In all truths, he wanted to test Rorin’s loyalty. He still couldn’t deny that somehow foul play had been involved and Rorin was the only one who could have been involved. However, Madara wasn’t one to kill off a skilled ninja for something without evidence—he still had some code of honor, despite being a ninja. He waved the chuunin away and went back to his work, forcing back his desire to have Sakura in his bed again that night.

Ω         Ω         Ω

Motsu Rorin was rather surprised when he was summoned to meet Sakura in the gardens as her escort. However, he was ever the obedient ninja and dutifully went up to the room. Knocking on the door, he wasn’t surprised when the door was immediately opened.

He was a little surprised to see Sakura wearing Madara’s clothes, however. He raised an eyebrow in question but Sakura shot him a look that said, ‘Don’t ask.’

The walk was silent until they reached the gardens. She glanced at him pointedly and guessing at what she was wondering, he scanned the area for anyone who could be watching. Finding no signs of chakra, although highly doubting there were none, he nodded at her.

Sakura exhaled, sounding relieved. “Thank you,” she said meaningfully, and he didn’t have to ask to know what she meant.

“It was nothing. It was my duty to accompany you here,” he responded, but looked her in the eye to make it clear that the latter statement was not what he was referring to.

The young pink-haired woman stared up at the blue sky and heaved a sigh. “I guess I’ll never be alone again, will I?” It was obvious she had ascertained from his guarded reply that they either weren’t alone or he wasn’t willing to take the risk that they weren’t alone.

“Probably not, given that you’re going to be married,” he responded. What he meant was, _‘No, you won’t be. ANBU will guard you for the rest of your life.’_

She seemed to take it that way, for she looked at him and nodded, her eyes saying that she knew what he was really saying. “Especially since I’m going to be the Hokage’s wife.”

Somehow and for some reason, her blatant admittance of the fact stung something inside of him. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why, but he was self-aware enough to know that it was based on more than just the fact that she was miserable in her situation.

Sakura continued. “I wish I could say that the food helped. It still felt as though it wasn’t my choice. I would have been thankful for a warning.” Meaning something along the lines of, _‘Thank you for telling me about the aphrodisiacs. I don’t feel guilty because I knew it wasn’t my choice.’_

Rorin followed her gaze to the sky as they walked through the summer-going-autumn garden. “I wish you could have a friend in all this. Someone who could support you in going down the right path.”

Sakura turned to him, pausing in mid-step. Given that they were basically talking in opposites of the situation, he knew what he had implied was a dangerous thing for him to say. Despite the backwards speech, it was a risky thing to admit to.

Finally, she responded. “I wish I could have a friend in this, too. Someone I could rely on to help me make good decisions on this journey.”

It was his turn to look at her questioningly. She gave a small smile. He was surprised that she had basically told him that she acknowledged him as her friend and that she trusted him to help her get out of this situation.

“It’s unfortunate you won’t find anyone like this here. You would have to befriend someone close to you,” he said, half-warningly and half-hopefully.

“I think once the Hokage and I are married that he will allow me to choose my friends, given that they are proven loyal to him,” she responded. He smiled at her, feeling almost elated that she was going to somehow bring him closer to her once she was given the chance. She was also warning him to stay on good behavior until then.

“Perhaps. The Hokage really is a good man, which I think you will see someday. It just requires a change in perspective.” Meaning, _‘He will not hurt you once you are away from here.’_

“I wish my friends would be able to see that. I’m sure they would agree. If only I could introduce them to him, maybe they would see him in a different light,” she said, bending down to sniff a purple orchid. As she did so, she covertly looked up at him, telling him what she truly meant. _‘My friends can stop him if I can get them close to him.’_

“You mean the Kyuubi boy?” Rorin asked mildly. “Given that Hokage-sama has the rest of the bijuu, perhaps they can relate on something. I’m sure the boy can help him with the problems of being a jinchuuriki.” ‘ _If we can get Naruto close enough, he may be able to defeat Madara.’_

Sakura nodded solemnly. “All I want is peace for Konoha. Naruto always wanted to be Hokage. Maybe he will settle for being an apprentice or an assistant, and maybe someday the Hokage will just want to be my husband and raise our children. Then Naruto can be Hokage, at least until my husband-to-be wants the position back.” _‘Naruto will bring peace to Konoha if he becomes Hokage.’_

“The future is uncertain,” Rorin said as they returned back to the garden gates. “But maybe if everyone works together, we can all find good in the situation. I’m sure that will benefit Konoha.” _‘We will have to gather everyone we can in order to defeat Madara and bring peace to Konoha.’_

Sakura smiled, but then reverted to stony silence when two ANBU guards appeared before them.

“Your thirty minutes is over. Haruno Sakura, please return to your room with us.”

The girl nodded and gave Rorin a secretive yet brilliant smile before turning to the guards and following them obediently. Rorin watched her leave and for some reason he couldn’t understand, he felt a pang of discontent knowing that in order for their discussed plans to work, she would have to marry the Hokage.

It almost felt like jealousy.

Ω         Ω         Ω

“Well?”

The ANBU bowed and said, “They discussed nothing that would deem Motsu Rorin a suspect of treason.”

Madara frowned slightly, somewhat disappointed that he couldn’t prove Rorin’s misconduct. “And did my wife-to-be behave?”

The ANBU nodded and when he spoke, actually sounded relieved. “She did not seem to be interested in escape. In fact, she inferred content towards the marriage.”

Now _that_ was suspicious. After that morning, he highly doubted that her words were sincere. The entire situation reeked of deceit, but as he had not been there himself, there was no way to have read their body language for the truth.

However, there was deep down a hope that what Sakura had expressed held some sort of truth, because it truly wasn’t his intention to have to rape her every time he wanted her body. It would bring a good deal of peace of mind if she were to consent to him from then on.

He had mixed emotions about the situation, but at the moment there was nothing to be done. As much as he would have liked to be rid of Rorin and any trouble he might cause, it would not help morale for his ninja nor benefit his leadership in the long run if he had a top officer killed for no reason that he could prove. It would have to wait. He would be waiting for the first slip that the ANBU captain had and then, Motsu Rorin could be eliminated permanently.

Madara looked down at his paperwork and reread the last paragraph he’d been on before stating, “You are dismissed. Watch both of them carefully.”

The ANBU nodded and without another word, vanished out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Chapter Eight: Turbulence

_~You’re the tool here; you’re the weapon_

_You’re the only one whose heart is threatened_

_Find your path and follow it home_

_Always know child, you’re not alone~_

 

The sun shone brightly into the room, illuminating everything in red as it peeked over the horizon. The air was chilly but refreshing at the same time. The trees swayed gently to the breeze, their autumn-touched leaves matching the colors of the sunset. All in all it was a beautiful evening, but all Sakura could think about was how she was going to face Madara that night.

Was he going to rape her again? Would he simply ignore her and go to sleep? Or better yet, would he simply spend the night in his office doing paperwork, like her shishou used to?

Sakura highly doubted the last thought because the Rokudaime didn’t seem to care too much for the paperwork the village brought him. He wasn’t a dedicated Hokage like Tsunade or the Third; the pinkette was certain that ruling over Konoha—and the rest of the world—was more of a power-trip for him than an endeavor to make the world a better place.

That in mind, she could only hope he planned on ignoring her. She was still sore, although walking in the garden had helped stretch out her muscles and gave her an overall better feeling in her body. She missed being able to go outside without needing permission, missed having any remnant of freedom. Sakura knew she’d have to gain Madara’s trust if she ever wanted more leeway, but the man hadn’t gotten this far because he was stupid. Chances were she’d be more or less incarcerated there until she was post-pregnancy, and then she’d be forced to care for a child she didn’t even _want_.

And yet the thought of an infant nuzzling into her as she held it brought a sudden warmth to her chest. Despite that the baby would be born of rape, she knew she didn’t have it in her to hate anyone that had formed life inside her body. She blamed it on her medic nature.

It was disturbing to think that she would love Madara’s child just like anyone else’s. It was even _more_ disturbing that she was already considering pregnancy—she should have been trying to fight, to escape! But that wouldn’t be fruitful and she knew it. There was no viable option for escape at that time—but there would be at some point. She just had to trust Rorin to help her and, unsurprisingly given their first interaction, it wasn’t all that hard.

She had picked up a scroll from the Madara’s bookshelf and was perusing it with only mild interest. It was a scroll on Katon jutsu; very informative but given that Sakura wasn’t really a Katon user, it was somewhat boring. It was about the dangers of the use of fire-style and at first she thought maybe it would gift her with knowledge to use against her husband-to-be, but Madara wasn’t stupid enough to leave anything of value in her reach.

Sakura sighed as she skimmed the last line of the scroll. Nothing useful in the slightest. It was almost like it was a scroll for elementary users; why would Madara need such a thing? He wasn’t a child anymore—hadn’t been for a long time—so why would this be of any value to him? He really didn’t seem like the sentimental type…

“I intend for our children to learn from that,” came a deep, as-usual unfeeling voice from the door way.

Sakura stiffened, her halfway movement of getting up to put it back immediately halted by the voice of her rapist and Hokage. She felt like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, the feeling amplified by the fact that she hadn’t heard him come in and she hadn’t sensed him in the slightest.

 _Ninja,_ was the first word that popped in her head. Of course.

Madara either didn’t care about her sudden stasis or he was unaffected by the obvious discomfort she felt in his presence. “You will be seeing Kyoko in five days.” There was the _thunk_ of armor being taken off and falling to the ground. “She will check for any signs of pregnancy.”

Sakura swallowed hard but couldn’t bring herself to respond to what he was saying. It didn’t seem like he was even looking for a response, which was really very wise. She had absolutely nothing other than hateful words to say to him.

There was a long moment of silence and it gave time Sakura to relax back into her sitting position, keeping her eyes trained on the scroll as though she was still reading.

Madara spoke again and this time he sounded annoyed. “You will not ignore me.”

Sakura did just that.

He couldn’t _make_ her talk to him. What more could he do at this point? She would eventually adjust to his sexual ‘attentions’ and he couldn’t cause her bodily harm without injuring her child.

Yes—because it was _her_ child. He was nothing but a sperm donor in her opinion.

The footsteps taken towards her location were intentionally loud and deliberate. He was giving her time to acknowledge him, which was probably kind in his eyes; in her eyes, it was nothing more than an intimidation tactic. She was used to such things given she was a kunoichi and had been a very prominent one for years.

He stopped in front of her and sat down on the bed. She instinctively curled her feet closer to herself. Despite that she was ignoring him, her damaged body refused to be in his vicinity any more than she could help.

“Why do you resist?” he asked, sounding curious and condescending all at the same time. “Your words earlier with the captain were quite to the opposite of your current behavior. Is there something I should know?”

She could almost _feel_ the knowing smirk on his face and Sakura knew she had to lead him away from his current train of thought. “Just because I’ve accepted my position doesn’t mean I’ve accepted _you._ ”

Her words were icy and tinged with venom. It hadn’t been how she’d wanted to say it—she knew the use of diplomacy would be important in her interactions with him—but her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own.

And Madara didn’t like what her mouth had decided to say for her, though his words were mocking instead of threatening. “Then I suppose we should take the time to get to know each other…surely with more _bonding_ a man and his wife can get along?” It wasn’t a question and there was an ulterior motive beneath his words.

Sakura fought the shiver in her spine at his implication. He obviously meant to get to know each other in a more physical sense, as he couldn’t have any further interest—it wouldn’t be in his nature. On the defensive, she said lowly, “I know you well enough. I’m not interested.” Her eyes remained on the scroll and her knuckles were white with the strain of her grip on the paper.

She flinched when Madara’s hand ghosted over her ankle and she bit her lip bloody in fearful restraint. “You wear my clothing well…but I prefer you without.”

The hand hovering over her ankle suddenly gripped it and he pulled it away from her body. Sakura let out a terrified shriek as the scroll fell to the ground and Madara positioned himself above her.

Frantically, she searched for a reason he couldn’t touch her. “Please, not again! You hurt me!”

This actually caused him to pause and Sakura vaguely wondered if he was feeling guilty for his rough treatment. She stared at his chin fearfully, pleading with her eyes without making eye contact.

Any moment of hesitation suddenly vanished. “I will be gentle if you do not fight.”

The color drained from her face and she tried to shove him off her. “Like hell!”

The next second both arms were pinned above her head and he was in her face, his expression menacing. “Then it will hurt.”

Sakura shrieked and landed a hard, although not chakra-filled, knee in his stomach. He grunted and faltered for a split-second, during which she tried to roll out from under him to at least get to the door. Deep down she knew fighting was futile and would only make him angry but she couldn’t just _let_ him win.

ANBU awaited her on the other side of the door. _To hell with them,_ she inwardly growled, wrenching the door open and hurtling outside.

They had obviously heard the commotion inside and were quite prepared for her, but by some form of luck she managed to evade them, hurling herself down the stairs down the hall and rolling down them rapidly.

She was just about to get up and continue running when she saw Madara’s sandals—obviously worn by their owner—in front of her.

“Get up,” he said softly, menacingly, when she hesitated to move.

The quiet tone of his voice let her know that she had royally pissed him off. Shakily, she got up onto her hands and knees—and then vaulted away from him, making a mad dash towards the door.

This time she was blocked off by ANBU and she knew that was where it ended. Panting hard, she turned to her rapist and glared. Her hair was mussed and in her face, her cheeks reddened from anger and exertion, and her fists were clenched as if to fight. Madara was no worse for wear, only wearing his tight black undershirt and pants. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked down his nose at her regally, making their difference in height so much more pronounced.

However, a second later he was no longer addressing her. “You. Restrain her, and you—bring me restraints.”

He obviously noticed her stiffening at his words.

“Yes, my dear,” he sneered. “You will not defy me again.”

Sakura couldn’t help it; she paled considerably, struggling ferociously when not one but two ANBU grabbed her and held her fast. She lashed out at them until Madara gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. Of course, she avoided his eyes, but that was to be expected of someone familiar with the sharingan.

“I am disappointed in you,” he said coldly. “And they always said intelligence was your strongest attribute.”

“Apparently yours is being a _rapist_ ,” she spat.

His face showed no emotion as he backhanded her, causing her to bite the inside of her cheek and spit the overflow of blood in her mouth on the ground.

“You will learn to respect your superiors,” he said emotionlessly. “I will not hesitate to have it beaten into you. What a poor ninja you are, not following the orders of your Hokage.”

Sakura was not to be cowed. “My Hokage died when you invaded. You are _nothing_ to me.”

This resulted in him stepping closer and kneeing her in the gut, making her gasp and double over the little that she could being held up by the ANBU. How could they see this and tolerate such blatant abuse?

As she was coughing from the blow, he gripped her by her hair and lifted her head, forcing her to glare hatefully at his chin.

“Very well then,” he replied. “Whereas the usual punishment for insubordination is death, because of your use to me you will face a very _different_ punishment. Rather, I should say—your _friend_ will.”

Sakura stiffened.

“Who?” she demanded.

Madara did not respond, nodding towards the ninja restraining her. “I believe it is time for her to see my favorite captive. Take her there—means of chakra approved. I will arrive there shortly.”

“WHO?” she screamed, just as she was teleported away.

Ω         Ω         Ω

They arrived in the Konoha interrogation prison, right in front of a heavily guarded cell. The fine hairs on Sakura’s arms and the back of her neck stood on end. _Who hadn’t escaped? Who was it?_

“The Hokage orders for her to see the captive.”

The guards—only jounin—nodded and one unlocked and opened the solid-steel door by means of specialized chakra.

What—or rather who—she saw inside, bloodied and beaten, made her nearly faint of shock.

_“Neji?”_

Pale white eyes lifted to meet hers, the horrors he had been forced to endure deeply embedded in his gaze.

“Sakura…I had hoped you would not meet the fate I have.”

The tears that poured down her cheeks were so hot they burned.

 

* * *

 

 

Chapter Nine: Thunderstorm

_~Child, even if your friends shall perish_

_Even if there is nothing to be done_

_Stay strong and you will salvage_

_The strength you need to run~_

 

Sakura stared helplessly for only a few seconds after before she tried to tear away from the ANBU’s grip that held her so firmly.

“Let me go! He needs medical attention or he’ll die!”

“There is the lack of intelligence yet again. Have you not realized that is his fate?”

Sakura turned and glared at Madara’s chin, her fury making it hard not to meet his gaze. She was desperate to let him know just how much she hated him.

She turned back to Neji and said softly, almost to herself, “What have they done to you?”

Neji’s response was to cough violently, afterwards spitting out a glob of mucus and blood. At the sight of it, Sakura fought even more ferociously against her restrainers, kicking and fighting.

“Let him go! If you want to punish me, then do it! But don’t harm an innocent for what I’ve done!”

Neji’s usually stoic expression held curiosity and concern. Sakura was panting from her futile struggles, every exhalation furious and vehement.

Madara ignored her. He nodded at the jounin guarding the Hyuuga, then turned to the ANBU holding Sakura. “You are dismissed. I will take care of this from here.”

The moment the ANBU released her, Sakura made a mad dive for Neji, halting only when Madara spoke.

“The more you misbehave, the worse it will be for your _friend_.” The final word was spat with distaste and a certain amount of resentment of which Sakura could find no understanding of.

She stopped, staring helplessly as the jounin who guarded him unlocked his chains, catching him as he collapsed without the manacle’s assistance. However, suddenly Madara raised his hand for them to halt before they exited the cell.

He turned to her, eyes cold and unfeeling. “This is your last chance to spare him your punishment. _Will you cooperate?_ ”

Sakura replied without thinking. “Yes.”

“Don’t!”

The desperation in Neji’s voice, clashing with her own, made her turn wide eyes to him. She’d never seen him so expressive, but she only smiled at him sadly, tears glistening in her eyes.

“I have to, Neji-kun.” She didn’t normally address him so familiarly, but she felt the situation allowed leeway in that regard. “I’m not going to have you suffer from my mistakes.”

“Put him back,” Madara sneered, apparently sickened by their camaraderie. “Leave him with no food for two days.”

“But you said-”

“He is being punished for his _own_ indiscretions,” the Rokudaime said coldly. “Now, _come._ ”

Sakura hesitated for all but a second before knowing that she had to behave in order to keep Neji safe. “Be safe,” she whispered to Neji, who she knew could hear her. “Don’t let them break you.”

Madara let out a low growl and gripped her arm, jerking her away from her friend. He said nothing more as he teleported them back to the exit of the Hokage tower, leading her back to ‘their’ room without releasing her.

Ω         Ω         Ω

He wasn’t sure why, but seeing Sakura with someone she obviously cared for, who she would _sacrifice_ for, infuriated him.

Madara tossed her like a rag doll onto the bed and stripped himself. He looked at her meaningfully and she did the same, her hands trembling as she pulled off his clothing from her body. While he was desperate to feel her beneath him again, she showed no such fervor and was slow and meticulous about removing the clothing.

His anger at her had not lessened, despite her assent to cooperate. She had _no right_ to disrespect him as she had and that, coupled with his acknowledged disappointment—for lack of a better word—at her clear _unwillingness_ to be with him as well as seeing her with someone who she genuinely cared for—all those together put him in a particularly foul mood.

As he stared at her from the foot of the bed, sharingan activated to memorize every curve of her body as she undressed, he felt a fury growing within him, one without limit. Who was _she_ , this mere slip of a girl, to deny him? Who was _she_ to disrespect and defy him, to butt heads with him at every given chance—except, of course, when she was trying to _fool_ him into allowing something, such as a rendezvous with Motsu.

Well, _that_ would not be happening again...ever. He would isolate her until she only knew him, only depended on him, only _needed_ and _wanted him._

Madara felt the descent into madness, into obsession over this kunoichi who was determined to stand against him and he found himself unable to care. She would come to love him—but until she did, she would know no one else in her life.

He grew tired of her trembling hands tugging down his pants and his rage doubled at the streaks of tears running down her cheeks. With a predatory silence he approached her and just when she noticed him, letting out a soft gasp—so _demure_ , so _innocent_ —he viciously tore his clothing from her body. She let out a tremulous cry but he was already crushing his lips against hers, tangling their tongues together with an intent much more dark than previous. This wasn’t about marriage or creating an heir.

This was about _claim_.

He was impatient and had no care for her needs; with this, she would be branded, known as his forever on. He tore away from her lips, feeling her ragged pants and hot tears dripping onto his cheeks and not caring. He suckled her neck viciously, bringing blood to the surface of her skin before biting into her soft, creamy skin, eliciting a pained cry from her lips, bruised from his kisses.

He repeated the action all over her body, paying special attention to her breasts, where after gentle sucking and nipping he could feel her chest heaving with mixed pain and pleasure. Her skin was littered from neck to abdomen with lovebites and markings of his possession, his dominance over her.

To Sakura’s credit, she only cried and did not scream or protest, did not fight back even when he neglected to hold her down.

After all, she knew what was at stake. Her friend would suffer if she fought back again.

The very thought of her motive for complying with him made him growl. He wrenched her thighs apart, eliciting a strangled cry of fear, and began to lick her sweet, hot opening, already slightly moistened from his attention to her breasts. A weak, terrified whimper passed her lips, then another and another, growing more desperate as she could no longer deny the sensations his tongue caused her.

He plunged two fingers inside her, tapping her weakness without mercy, and she almost immediately spasmed around them, a hoarse mixture of sobbing and moaning filling the air. Then, pulling away from her, he continue to suck and bite viciously all over her lower abdomen and inner thighs. He refused to leave there any question as to whether she was his or not.

By this point he was hardened to the point of insanity and after careful positioning, he thrust into her hot, wet womanhood with a satisfied grunt. She was still crying, although silently; he simply gripped her forearms to hold her steady as he thrust mercilessly in and out of her. No words were necessary for her to understand what was happening, but as he neared his release, he whispered menacingly a single word into her ear.

“ _Mine._ ”

He felt her shudder as he panted into her hair, their sweaty bodies entangled together despite her quasi-consent. He groaned as he met ecstasy and pounded in and out of her passionately, ignoring her weak whimpers at his roughness.

Madara collapsed on top of his possession, holding her close and feeling her limp body beneath him. He rolled onto his side and pulled her into him, forcing her to accept his embrace. With a contented growl he held her before releasing her and standing up. He fought back a reprimand at her soft sobbing, instead gripping the cord of the pants she had borrowed from him and removing it from the garment. Wordlessly he approached her, pinned her wrists together behind her back, and tied them together deftly. She made no move to fight, only letting out a soft whimper into the pillow.

He slipped on his pants and then went to the ANBU guard outside his door.

“Tomorrow she will be moved into a holding cell in the Interrogation Unit. She is to have no contact with anyone without express and explicit permission from myself.”

The ANBU guards were unhesitating in their nod and, bidding them a tired goodnight—an abnormal thing for him to do, to engage his subordinates with meaningless chatter—he retreated into his room. Sakura had fallen asleep, but that did not matter. He held her close to him that night, knowing she would not share his bed for at least a month. When she was desperate for him, for _any_ attention he might give her, then—then she would rest in his bed again, see the sunlight and the gardens and the skies, speak to anyone other than herself. She would eat real food again—not simply bread and water and the pills she would be supplied with for her pregnancy.

Until she accepted him, as she had so expressly told him she had not earlier, she would be alone.

He could _feel_ his descent into obsession, into madness; he did not care.

 

* * *

 

 

Chapter Ten: Stillness

_~There is no fault in defeat_

_Sometimes, child, there is nothing else_

_But do not fall beneath_

_The grip of hope, don’t lose thyself~_

 

When Sakura opened her eyes, she assumed it was night outside because she could see nothing. But there wasn’t the outline of night sky from behind curtains or drapes; there was nothing.

She blinked, just to be sure that she had truly opened her eyes, and sat up. It was then that she realized how cold her skin was, how _hard_ the bed was—how her wrists felt oddly heavy and were, upon further inspection, manacled.

Fear gripped her chest. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was Madara raping her and then tying her hands together before unconsciousness took pity on her—now she had no idea where she was and _so_ many questions.

“Hello?” she asked, her voice raspy. She realized she was thirsty.

Her voice echoed and it was then that Sakura realized she was somewhere underground—somewhere dank and cold. She tried to stand up and walk around, but there were manacles around her ankles as well and they offered much less freedom than those on her wrists—after all, these manacles were attached to chains and those chains were attached to stone walls. They allowed her probably five or six feet maximum to walk.

As she kept blinking frantically, wondering if she had gone blind, and trying to create some kind of mobility despite the chains, Sakura felt terror slowly build in her chest, constricting and strangling her. She called on her chakra but this time, it wasn’t unresponsive; it heeded her call but was useless against the chakra-blocking manacles.

“HELLO?” she called out, now terrified. She had so many questions—what was going on? Where was she? Why was it so dark? Had she been kidnapped?—Madara had never done such a thing like this to her, nor hinted at it. Was she going to die? Why was she so _alone_?

Sakura did a fine job of working herself into a panic. Somewhere deep down she was ashamed at her lack of confidence, the inability to pull herself together, her utter incompetence as a kunoichi, but being so helpless had done a number on her hard-earned achievements. She was without chakra, hungry, thirsty, restrained, couldn’t see—and was utterly alone. She had no idea what was going on, nor any idea of what could _possibly_ be going on.

She began to call out frantically, begging anyone to hear her, to find her. All the response she received was the echoing of her voice back at her. Soon her calls turned to sobs and soon her sobs to whimpers; and then silence.

Sakura fell into a fitful slumber, too exhausted to even so much as think, when the scraping of metal upon stone startled her. She cried out immediately and was glad to see that she hadn’t gone blind—she saw the light from where a plate of food had been inserted, as well as a cup of water. She called out to whoever had fed her to talk to her, at least tell her what was going on, why was she here—but there was no response. She began to cry and she ignored her food until her stomach protested and she could no longer deny her hunger.

It was far from a nourishing meal; two slices of bread and a small glass of water that did nothing to quench her thirst. Tears came again, this time of confusion; what was going on?

Hadn’t she been through enough already?

As she lay there on the floor, she finally started to feel the aching pain in her body, specifically the bruises Madara had left and her abdomen. Last night he’d taken her rather brutally, not in the sense of violence so much as intensity. Her face stung from where she’d been slapped and her stomach ached from the blow she’d received. Vaguely she wondered if the blow could have caused her to miscarry, but there hadn’t been any blood so she either hadn’t or wasn’t pregnant. She hoped for the latter.

Time began to bleed together after that. She wondered for at least the first three meals—she kept track, as there was nothing else to keep time with—what had happened to lead her to this position. In the end she decided that she had angered the Hokage enough that he wanted her jailed. She’d hadn’t fought him the night previous, so it couldn’t have been that and had to be something else. But she couldn’t fathom any of her recent actions to warrant this, so she simply had to assume the bastard had projected some unseen insult he thought he’d received onto her.

At first she was happy to be alone. Even though she felt as though she was slowly going insane, it was better than quickly going insane because of Madara’s raping and abuse.

Eventually she grew lonely and started talking to herself. This was perhaps twenty or so meals after the first three. She was often tired and so she slept most of the time, and sometimes she felt she missed a meal due to it. No matter, she was never full anyways and was in an almost constant state of thirst.

Her only movement was when she had to relieve herself. She had found a small hole in the ground that she assumed was for this use and used it as such. At first the smell bothered her but she became accustomed, and soon she noticed nothing from her own uncleanliness, either. She ate, she slept, and she thought.

Dark thoughts only had their uses for so long. Sakura decided she had no idea how many days—three meals equaled a day—she would be incarcerated, so she decided to think back on happy things. She thought of Naruto, primarily, and the happy and silly times they’d had, the long and life-threatening battles they’d fought together, the time of sadness and mourning after Sasuke had left, everything. She remembered easy talks and countless whacks to his head at Ichiraku’s, remembered hearing about his pathetic attempts to tell Hinata how he felt about her, remembered intervening and finally uniting them as a couple. She wondered how they were doing, if they would defeat Madara—they _had_ to, there was no other option for an outcome.

She thought of Kakashi and wept over the loss of his life. She remembered the many excuses he made up for being late but also how many times he’d saved Team Seven’s lives. She thought of Sasuke and cried for the needless wasting of his life into one of solely revenge. She mourned for even Itachi, for the life he’d sacrificed for Konoha. She cried endlessly over Tsunade, but had the heart to remember that Tsunade had been the mother she’d always wanted and never gotten from her biological mother.

She thought of her friends, wondering if she and Ino would ever frivolously go shopping for clothing Sakura would never _actually_ wear. Would the blonde and Shikamaru ever hit it off, or was Temari going to steal the lazy shinobi’s heart first?

Meals turned to days and distantly, Sakura formed those into weeks. As she was only capable of thinking and talking to herself, she found herself saying things to the people she’d never get to talk to again, things that she should have said before they died.

_Kakashi-sensei, even though you never really put a lot of effort into training me, you were always there for me in your own strange way. I miss you and I really wish you were still here. You were a pillar of strength for me and Naruto and I will always be grateful for that. I’ll never forget you—that’s a shinobi’s promise._

_Sasuke-…no, you’re not Sasuke-kun anymore. I moved on from you, although I can’t say if I’d rather be with you or Madara at this point. It’s up in the air._ She’d chuckled darkly at the lame joke. _But I’m sorry your life ended like this. I think if you had just trusted in me and Naruto you would have still had your revenge but you might have also been happy…and maybe come out alive. You would have been very helpful against the invasion. No, I don’t hate you…sometimes I wish I did, but I don’t think I could ever go so far as to truly disown you from Team Seven. I wish things hadn’t ended like this…I hope you know that even when I didn’t love you anymore, I would always have been there for you. I hope you can finally be at peace now._

 _Shishou…there’s so much I want to say to you. Thank you for making me strong. Thank you for helping me reach my potential. Thank you for teaching me to heal, to save lives…Thank you, thank you, thank you. But…I guess your temper really did rub off on me, because I’m angry at you. Really, really angry at you. How could you die? How could you leave Konoha, us…_ me? _I mean, logically I know you never meant to die…but you did, and now I’m alone. You know, I saw Konoha a little while ago. I mean, I knew you were a good Hokage…but it was painful to see how badly things went after you died. Madara…he has no idea how to govern. He’s cruel, ruthless, cunning…I hate him. I wish you were here, shishou. There’s so much to say to you still...I just can’t put into words how much I miss you. I…I love you, like a mother, shishou. I wish I’d been able to tell you that when you were alive._

Eventually, Sakura found strength returning to her. It had been a total of fifty-seven meals since she’d first found herself in this position, give or take the three-to-five she’d slept through. That meant nineteen days, give or take.

She had done her mourning; of course, it wasn’t over, but she had lifted the burden of her dead comrades from her shoulders. She had found a deep-rooted strength that was borne of her hatred for Madara, and she knew that the missing piece to his defeat was her.

She felt no life within her; she wasn’t pregnant. Her chakra wouldn’t be weakened by a pregnancy.

After the sixtieth meal, Sakura knew that she had to begin preparing. If they came back for her—she knew they would, or they wouldn’t keep feeding her, they’d just let her rot—they would probably inject the chakra suppressant into her before removing the chakra-blocking chains.

She couldn’t mobilize chakra outside her body, but there _had_ to be a way to make it fight against the chakra suppressant they injected intravenously.

In the end, it was basic. Before she drank the water, she’d dirty it—whether by scraping up loose dirt from the floor or even just dipping her hands in it. It wasn’t hygienic, but she trained her chakra to purify the liquid as it entered her. As the chakra wasn’t stopped up in her body but rather unable to reach the surface and be used, she focused it internally to purify. She had to assume it would work on all toxins, and she trained her chakra to react to anything foreign, i.e. not necessary to bodily functions, such as dirt or, as intended, the chakra suppressant.

There was no way of telling whether it would work or not, but by meal eighty-seven, she felt prepared.

It was shortly before meal ninety-four—her body had naturally become attuned to when she would be fed and began protesting uproariously prior to the only ‘event’ in her life—that she heard footsteps nearing her door for the first time in what felt like forever.

As the bolt in the door shifted, Sakura figured that whatever Madara had planned to achieve while she was incarcerated had failed. She was now possibly immune to the intravenous chakra suppressant—as well as any other toxins—and more prepared than ever to take him down.

The door creaked open and Sakura winced at even the dim lighting reaching her eyes. Two ANBU stood there, as well as a trembling young woman wearing nurse’s scrubs.

It was now or never.

Ω         Ω         Ω

Madara filtered through the endless paperwork. He had realized long ago that being Hokage was a tedious business, but it seemed to get even more tedious now that Sakura no longer warmed his sheets and he had turned back to Rima, but it was quite decidedly nowhere near as satisfying, despite that she was willing and Sakura was not. He was glad that it was finally time to reintroduce her back to their room, after, of course, he briefed her on the new rules of her position…and of course, spent some _quality time_ with her. Even with Rima temporarily sating his lust, her body simply did not compare to Sakura’s and he craved the pinkette’s body.

He’d sent Motsu Rorin and his team out on a lengthy mission, just to be safe. He didn’t want the captain misplacing his loyalties and admittedly, the ANBU hadn’t done anything suspicious in a long while. Madara wasn’t one to give out trust freely nonetheless; until Motsu had an active role in something that clearly supported his loyalty to the Rokudaime, he wouldn’t begin to start trusting him again.

Madara glanced at the clock. The ANBU were most likely removing her from the cell that very moment.

Anticipation filled him.

Ω         Ω         Ω

Anticipation filled her.

She squinted at the light but cooperated when the nurse, who introduced herself as Kyoko. Sakura simply nodded. She quickly deduced that the isolative punishment perhaps had something to do with breaking her spirit, so she acted as docile as possible.

“I’m here to administer your suppressant,” Kyoko said kindly. She knelt down and Sakura offered her arm. Her relaxed demeanor and compliance would lull the ANBU into underestimating her will to escape.

Sakura steadied herself as the needle slid into her skin and focused on eliminating the burning chakra suppressant as it entered her body.

So, when her arm began to glow—something that hadn’t happened before—and the burning dissipated, she knew that it had worked. Hopefully, Kyoko didn’t know what the glowing of chakra in her arm meant.

Indeed, the nurse didn’t. She stared at Sakura’s arm long after the glow had faded, uncertainty marring her features.

“Bring chakra to your hands,” she said softly. Sakura nodded, letting her expression fall, but didn’t actually summon chakra.

Kyoko nodded in approval, then turned to the ANBU. “I don’t think anything went wrong. She’s good to go. The effects will last for 24 hours.”

Both nodded silently and released Sakura from her manacles. The skin itched as it was introduced to fresh air again and Sakura fought the reflex to immediately test her chakra. Not a good idea…not yet.

Shakily she stood and followed the ANBU outside her prison. Her eyes hurt from the light, no matter how weak it was, and she knew that if she was going to escape, she would have to dull her eyes’ sensitivity so she could see.

They had walked up two flights of steps and were now on ground level; Sakura had seen this part of the Interrogation Unit before. She waited patiently, however, for the most opportune moment to escape.

That came just when they stepped outside. No one but the three of them were present; it was evening and most villagers had gone home already. Sakura tested her chakra by summoning it to her hand. It was there…and it could be _used._

In a swift motion she decked the guard to her left with a chakra-laden punch. He went flying and landed in a heap, unconscious. Sakura had to admit that she might have been overzealous in her attack. Before the other could cry out, she sliced through his neck with a chakra scalpel. It was unfortunate he had to die, but she had to make this as quick of an escape as possible.

She didn’t hesitate. Stripping the dead ANBU of all his weaponry, she turned to the rooftops and fled from Konoha as quickly as possible. She masked her chakra and with the best luck she’d had in a while, she escaped Konoha’s gates undetected and was finally free.


	3. Red Dawn [Madara/Sakura] NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Dawn, brought over from OfBrokenLove Official Website. Chapters one through four. Unedited from original posting.
> 
> Sakura Haruno has always wanted to be a singer, leading her to become the personal assistant of the manager of Ame Recording Label in Los Angeles, California. However, after an encounter with the owner of the label, Madara Uchiha, she finds her world turned up-side down. Madara, one of the most powerful businessmen in the world, desires her and refuses to take no for an answer. When he attempts to fulfill his desire and fails, Sakura is thrown into a dangerous situation that there is little hope of escaping. Madara is a man who does not let go of what he deems his… and Sakura has unintentionally put herself in that category.
> 
> Noncon, yandere!Madara, kidnapping, drugging

**Chapter One: Platinum**

_“…and when I fall into your arms, we’ll look up at the sky and see the red dawn…the red dawn, our tragedy is done, it’s time to see a new day and we’ll look into the sun, our future is just beginning, it’s another begin-”_

“Haruno! Quit your stupid humming and get back to work!”

Sakura Haruno sighed heavily, continuing to hum the tune under her breath—she’d actually been singing before her boss, Kakuzu, had so _politely_ told her to shut up—and stared blankly back into the computer screen.

Kakuzu was pissed because there’d been a mistake in the finances and had ordered her to correct them STAT, even though she wasn’t even in the financing department and had a general lack of skill for the subject. All she could do was dejectedly scroll down the eleven page document, looking for any mishaps and redoing all the math on her trusty calculator. It was millionth time she’d silently thanked Shino for the unwanted 23rd birthday gift, which was now not so unwanted.

She worked at the famous Ame Recording Label in Los Angeles, California. She was a singer-gone-secretary, and though she would never admit it, she’d secretly gotten into the position so that maybe one day she could go secretary-gone-singer, as was her initial dream. She’d been singing since she was nine but no luck befell her in the music scene. Oh, people liked her and she had a following—it wasn’t enough to make money, so here she was wishing, waiting, wanting to become big like the famed band Akatsuki had through this company. The label covered many other bands as well, but none were as popular as Akatsuki.

Finally she noticed the glitch that was causing the deficit. She quickly corrected it and then checked with the end result to see if it added up. Kakuzu, being the micromanaging control freak that he was, had already known what the end amount should be and had added it—he just wanted the paperwork to match up because the owner of the label, Madara Uchiha, was flying in from Japan to supervise the venture.

Nobody had _not_ heard of Madara Uchiha. Internationally acclaimed businessman, he had a business of every kind somewhere in the globe—a huge bank in Switzerland, a well-renowned winery in Rome, a multi-million dollar oil company in Saudi Arabia, and a massive weapons manufacturer in Russia, to name a few—and he was still making more. Ame Recording Label had been one of his more recent ventures, founded in 2006, two years before Akatsuki became one of the most popular bands in the world. The band was currently touring in Asia, where they had originated, something of a homecoming tour.

Sakura could only imagine how much money the 41-year-old man had, given that every business made millions in profits every year. She was paid 26.75 an hou—it was ridiculous that she wasn’t on salary, in her opinion. Madara had been named #1 richest man in the world 3 years in a row, making 2014 the fourth year that he would most likely win the title.

Heaving a sigh, Sakura printed the newly-edited document and stood, smoothing down her black pencil skirt before walking across the hall to Kakuzu’s office.

“Sir, here’s the finished document. I was schedule to go home two hours ago. May I leave now?” Sakura didn’t mind sounding snarky to Kakuzu—he didn’t really care what his employees did so long as the label continued to make substantial profit.

Kakuzu didn’t even glance up, motioning for her to place the stapled papers down on the desk. “Go home then. But remember, look your best for tomorrow. Madara will be here at 9am sharp, so make sure you’re in by seven. Make sure the entire place is _immaculate_ or everyone in the company will receive a $1.25 pay dock for the rest of the quarter. Understood?”

Sakura fought back a protest and nodded. “Yes, sir. Can I go now?”

Kakuzu finally looked up at her. “Are you sure you can’t do anything with your hair?”

She glared at him, unfazed. “My hair color is natural and I refuse to dye it.”

He shrugged. “Get out of my sight then. Don’t blame me if you get fired, though. There’s no worker’s comp for being laid off because of obnoxious hair color, natural or not.” Sakura ignored him and did just what he ordered: leave.

The trek down to her car in the parking garage below the building was thankfully peaceful because everyone else had gone home at five, like she _should have_. Then again, as an assistant to the highest-level manager in Ame Record Studio, she was probably asking for too much to have set hours. At least she got overtime.

As Sakura took a seat in her small Honda Civic, she rubbed her temples hard to delay the oncoming headache. She was just pulling out of the garage when her phone rang. Recognizing the specialized ringtone as Ino’s, Sakura quickly picked it up and answered, “What’s up, Pig?”

“Oh my god, Madara Uchiha’s coming to LA tomorrow! What should I wear?”

Sakura made a face at the car that had just cut her off in order to make the red light. “Something extremely slutty. I heard he likes that type of woman.”

“Oh, Forehead. You’ll never learn, will you?” Ino sighed dramatically. “Are you sure you can’t take me to work? I heard he’s visiting your company.”

“Believe it or not, the Uchiha is coming to LA specifically because of ‘my’ company,” Sakura retorted coolly. “I’m the one who should be worrying about what to wear—except I’m _not_ , because I have a boyfriend and I’m not trying to impress a man who’s out of my league times a billion.”

Sakura could almost hear the scrunching of Ino’s face, almost as much clearly as she could envision it. “You know that he’s a loser, right?”

“James is _not_ a loser, okay?” Sakura knew she didn’t sound all that convinced herself.

“Yeah, and you believe that about as much as you’d believe that I finally got Shikamaru together with Temari.”

“I don’t know why you care so much, anyways,” Sakura replied, hoping the change the subject as quickly as possible. She _knew_ James wasn’t good for her; she was almost positive she was being cheated on because she refused to sleep with him. Was it so wrong that she didn’t want to give herself to just anybody?

Ino, luckily, took the bait. “Shika’s been my friend since we were _born,_ in case you forgot. He’s totally in love with her but is too much of a lazyass to actually show any interest.”

The pinkette snorted. “Didn’t they sleep together?”

Ino snorted sarcastically back. “You know that Temari initiated it because _she’s_ in love with him too. If he doesn’t do something soon, Kankuro’s going to kill him for ‘seducing’ his sister.”

“Dear god, Ino, I don’t need this drama right now.” And she really didn’t.

“Whatever. Go home and sleep in a passionless bed again. I don’t care. But if you can, mention me to Madara!”

 _Like I’m even going to talk to him,_ Sakura thought wearily. “Yeah, yeah, Pig, I’ll do it if I can.” She ignored Ino’s self-satisfied huff and said, “Look, I’m home. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Call me on your lunch break! I want to know _everything!_ ”

“Okay, okay,” Sakura replied. Sometimes she wished she could just hang up, but Ino was her best friend and had been with her through thick and thin since high school. “Bye, okay?”

“Toodles!”

Sakura put her car into park and, grabbing her purse, quickly hurried into the house she and James shared. She was surprised that the light was on in his bedroom, as he usually didn’t come home until eight, but figured he’d gotten off work early and was playing Xbox like every other twenty-eight year old loser who had no aspirations in life.

Yes, to herself and herself alone, she could admit that James was a total bum. She just didn’t have the heart or the money to break up with him. Living near downtown Los Angeles was insanely expensive, even with her decent pay.

She climbed the steps slowly, dreading having to see the messy house again. It needed to be cleaned terribly but James never pitched in with household chores and she worked too much to take care of them, especially recently with Madara’s announced trip to LA. The entire studio had been in a frenzy of making everything perfect, mostly on her boss’s behest. Sakura slid the key into the lock and turned it, but was surprised when it was already unlocked.

Sakura couldn’t help but feel extremely suspicious. One thing she couldn’t fault James with was his security measures around the house—he was a security guard at the mall and this was often reflected into his outside life—and this was careless and totally unlike him.

She silently opened the door, for once glad that they had paid to have the hinges oiled. She hadn’t taken but two steps inside before she heard it.

_“Oh, yes, yes! Harder! Faster! Please, make me cum!”_

And it was a female’s voice.

It didn’t take walking in on them to realize what was going on. Sakura, filled with so many emotions, didn’t even care to see them in the act. This was self-explanatory and she actually _wasn’t_ curious enough to see them in the act. Quickly, she glanced at the clean laundry she had laid out on the couch for hanging up the night before. Sneaking into the kitchen, she grabbed a discarded grocery plastic bag and stuffed her chosen outfits inside, without bothering to fold them because Ino would certainly have an ironing board at her apartment, before storming out the door. The only indication she gave James that she had been there was slamming the door loud enough to wake up any neighbors who might have been napping and to startle all the birds in the general vicinity.

Returning to her car much more quickly than she had left, she sped off in the direction of Ino’s, dialing the phone furiously.

“Missed me that much, Forehead?” was Ino’s smug answer.

“That slimy, greasy, no-good fucking bastard is cheating on me _this very minute!”_ Sakura shouted into the phone. The moment the sentence left her lips she broke down into desperate sobs.

“Oh, honey…” Ino said softly. Then she was all business. “Mint chocolate chip or cookies’n’cream?”

“Both,” Sakura sobbed. “And I want to watch The Notebook.”

“Done and done. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Okay…see you in five.”

“Love you, girl.” Still sobbing, Sakura let the phone drop into the passenger seat and closed her eyes, sobbing weakly.

_Crash!_

Sakura’s eyes snapped open as the car rocked back and forth at the impact of the hit. As soon as she realized she’d just rear-ended the Lamborghini in front of her, she burst out into further tears.

“God DAMMIT!” she screamed, pounding on the steering wheel in hopeless rage. After venting her fury on the innocent unanimated object, she slumped back in her seat and let the tears roll down her cheeks.

She was only moved from her dejected state when there was the tapping of a nail against her window. Looking up through teary eyes, Sakura saw a beautiful brunette with French-manicured acrylic nails staring into the window.

_Oh dear…Class A bitch it seems I’ve hit._

Sighing, Sakura opened the door and got out. She was immediately intimidated by the brunette’s 5’10 height and expensive, eloquently-slutty clothing.

“I’m sorry, miss, I wasn’t paying attention. I-”

“You hit us because you _weren’t paying attention?_ ” the woman snapped. “That’s all fine and well, but that car is worth $115,000 and yours is a piece of junk! Do you know how much it’s going to take to repair it?”

Sakura glowered. “Now wait just a second, my car _is not_ a piece of junk! Look, I’m really sorry, I need to be somewhere ten minutes ago,” she lied. “Can we just trade insurance and get on our way?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, you ugly little girl. Do you know what you’ve just done? You’d better hope we don’t take you to court!”

Sakura stiffened at the insult and the threat, respectively, but tried not to let her anger get the best of her. “Look, ma’am, it was an _accident_. There is no reason to bring anything to court, I’m sure with a car like that you’ve got great insurance, so-”

“You’re going to pay for the repairs,” the woman sneered. Then, appraising Sakura’s clothing, she said cattily, “ _If you can._ A car like that doesn’t get repaired with pennies. _”_

The insinuation was what pushed it over the edge and Sakura’s patience ran out. “The repairs are not my responsibility. If you didn’t want to pay for expensive repairs, then you don’t buy expensive cars,” Sakura responded slowly and coldly, as though she were talking to a dimwit. “Now give me your damn insurance so we can get this over with.”

“Why you-”

“Natalia, go get the papers,” came a distinctly masculine voice. “We’ve been here long enough, we’ll miss the dinner party if you keep this up.”

The voice was cold and unfeeling and Natalia, sufficiently cowed, went to the passenger’s side of the vehicle and began to dig around. While she was at it, Sakura turned to thank the man who had called off the rabid bitch.

Before a ‘thank you’ could even be voiced, Sakura’s throat caught and she immediately was filled with horror.

“Oh, I am _so_ losing my job,” she groaned under her breath as the one and only Madara Uchiha approached her.

“I apologize for my date’s rudeness. The stylist didn’t do her hair correctly and she’s been in a foul mood ever since,” Madara said calmly. Sakura couldn’t even look at him; she just nodded her head and stared miserably at the large dent in the back of the Lamborghini. However, she did notice that while his voice was cultured, he did not speak with any particular accent.

Natalia soon returned with the insurance and Madara’s driver’s license. Sakura wilted further as his identity was confirmed, and taking out her phone, Sakura began to jot down the information. After she was done, she nodded at the couple she’d had the misfortune to get into a car wreck with and went to go get her own insurance card and driver’s license. Madara wrote down the information on a small notepad that had been in his tuxedo pocket and when done, nodded at her and handed back the information.

“Again, I’m so sorry,” Sakura mumbled, not daring to look at either of them. Natalia just huffed and Madara nodded again.

“It’s nothing,” he said. When he lingered after Natalia had already gotten back into the car, Sakura finally looked up at him and blanched at the scrutinizing look he was giving her.

Sakura gave a weak smile. “I’ll just be going now…”

“You have no reason to be so upset. The car will be easily fixed.”

“Uhh…yeah,” she replied dumbly. “Yeah…I gotta go.”

Ignoring the fact that he was still standing there, watching her, Sakura quickly jumped into her car and shut the door. Putting her car into reverse, she sped away. She was going to lose her job anyway and there was no reason to prolong her embarrassment.

There was _no_ way she was going to tell Ino about this.

* * *

 

**Chapter Two: Disaster**

“Sakura! Sakura! It’s 8:30! You gotta get to work!” Ino half-shouted as she shook Sakura shortly after she had awoken.

Sakura mumbled tiredly into her pillow, complaining about how work didn’t start ‘til nine, when she remembered the night before and the fact that she was supposed to show up early for work because Madara was coming.

Like a gunshot she sat up in bed and immediately scrambled for the shower. “Sorry, Ino! I _can’t_ be late!” she called, jumping into the still-cold water and immediately taking to scrubbing her face.

 _Oh god…_ she couldn’t help but think. Not only had she hit Madara’s car the night before, but there was _no way_ she was going to get in on time.

Sakura raced through putting on her clothes and only did the minimalist’s version of makeup. If she left in thirty seconds, she _might_ be only two minutes late.

Hopping around to pull on her black heels, Sakura grabbed her purse from the counter and waved at Ino. “I gotta go! I’ll call you at lunch!” And with that, she was out the door.

She arrived at 9:05. She was as good as fired.

 

Madara watched Kakuzu prowl around the office, glaring at anyone who dared to look at him. “Where is she?” the manager of the company growled. “I swear, if she wasn’t a decent worker she’d be fired for this.”

Madara inspected his nails, wondering why Kakuzu was so upset. Then again, _he_ was there to visit the company and tardiness from one of the top employees wasn’t a good first impression, but all in all he wasn’t too bothered. He’d initially wanted to show up at ten, but had decided that it would be best to show up a little earlier so as to go home earlier.

Suddenly Kakuzu turned to him and said, “Sorry, sir, my secretary is late. She’s coming this way and I need to have a word with her.”

Madara nodded and glanced up, only to see the girl from the night before all but running towards Kakuzu.

His eyes lit up in interest. How coincidental it was that he should see her again. She’d perked his interest the night before with her ability to stand up to Natalia, who could easily be titled the Bitchiest Woman on Earth. The only reason he kept her around when he came into LA was because she was the daughter of a rich man and she was always available, no matter what, so he never had to worry about going somewhere without a date. As much as he hated it, it looked bad for a 41-year-old man as successful as he was to not have a date.

Kakuzu was seething at the girl—Sakura Haruno, that was her name—and the girl looked genuinely apologetic and strangely enough, totally terrified. She glanced over in his direction and the moment they made eye contact, she turned a brilliant shade of red and averted her eyes as quickly as humanly possible.

He smirked. She _was_ rather cute and it was always adorable to see younger women with crushes on him, no matter how unattainable he was to them. He watched her curiously as she suddenly began to glare at Kakuzu when he motioned to her clothing. Sakura said something angrily that made Kakuzu even more irate and soon, there was a full-blown argument under way while he stood back and watched.

As interesting as it was to see Sakura in such a position, Madara was quickly growing bored of waiting. Finally he walked over to them and said, “Is there a problem?”

“No!” they said simultaneously, Sakura’s response more of a nervous exclamation and Kakuzu’s more annoyed but respectful.

“Kakuzu, I would like to see the productivity of my company. Is this who we were waiting on?”

“Yes, sir,” Kakuzu said, mumbling under his breath, _“but she couldn’t have dressed worse for the occasion.”_

“Hey!” Sakura snapped at him. “Last night was bad. BAD. Do you get it? I’m doing my best here!”

“Your best going to get you fired if you don’t-”

“Children,” Madara said sharply. Kakuzu bowed his head in immediate apology and Sakura averted her gaze uncomfortably. It was a testament of his power that Kakuzu had accepted being talked to like that, as the man was 14 years Madara’s senior.

Kakuzu cleared his throat after a long second. “Sir, this is Sakura Haruno. She will be your guide through the company. It’s grown much since you last visited three years ago. We’ve added four new divisions and…”

Madara tuned him out, as he was already aware of the growth—what kind of businessman would he be if he didn’t keep close tabs on his ventures?—and took to looking over Sakura.

He was a little surprised that Kakuzu had hired someone with pink hair, as it was against company policy and unnaturally dyed hair was extremely unprofessional. Other than that, she was actually a very comely young woman. She was short, probably only 5’4, but much of that was taken up by her long legs. She had a well-disguised hourglass figure due to the loose, flowing white shirt she had on. Her breasts weren’t entirely impressive, C cup at best, but it suited her well. Her face was probably her best feature, despite that her forehead was just a little too large. Her verdant green eyes were striking, despite the very small amount of eyeliner she had on, and she had a straight nose and pouty pink lips.

All in all, she was attractive, and being the hot-blooded male that he was, it interested him.

Of course, Sakura wasn’t the best of the best in the slightest, but something about her drew him to her. Most women, especially the best of the best in looks, would never have been able to handle Natalia the way Sakura had. Then again, Natalia might have cut into them harder with her usual insults, as they typically attacked wealth and looks. Given Sakura’s status and the fact that she had to be aware she wasn’t the prettiest of them all, they couldn’t have cut her too deep.

That would be putting it logically, of course. He was old enough to know that women weren’t logical in the slightest.

“…and so you’ll begin in the financing division and Sakura will take it from here.” Kakuzu gave his secretary a pointed look before nodding politely at Madara and returning to his office.

Madara turned to her and she smiled waveringly. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me here, huh?”

He chuckled. “Not in the slightest.”

“Well, this way. The financing division is headed by Shino Aburame. He’s excessively intelligent, probably a little _too_ excessively, but you should meet him. He’s a good friend of mine and a great guy.” Sakura smiled and then began to lead him down the hallway.

Madara took in the new appearance of the company with satisfaction. The floors had been redone as speckled beige carpet instead of the white tile he’d seen at the end of 2009 and the walls had been repainted a more benign cream-white. Several potted plants lined the hallways, and all in all he found the change to be acceptable.

After his assessment of the building’s changes, he averted his gaze to Sakura—or more specifically, the way she walked. It said a lot about a person. Women who swayed their hips in exaggeration he had found tended to be easy, while Sakura’s upright, confident look made it clear that she was either totally focused on work and not interested in their interaction, or just completely uninterested in him, period.

Neither thought sat well with him.

They turned a corner, walked through a glass doorway, and then Sakura lead him to the back office where Shino apparently resided. She knocked on the door twice and a soft “Come in” was heard, at which she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

“Mr. Uchiha, this is Shino Aburame. He’s the head of the financing division.”

A tall man with curly black hair and stood and stepped forward from his desk, offering his hand. Madara resisted to raise his eyebrow at the fact that Shino was wearing sunglasses indoors, but Sakura’s assessment that Shino was excessively intelligent became clear when he spoke.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Uchiha. In regards to my eyewear, fluorescent lighting is damaging to my retinas. They are prescription and a medical necessity.”

Madara nodded in appreciation of the explanation and shook Shino’s hand. “Much appreciated, Shino. The financing division under your guide has brought in an extra two million to the company. It is truly a pleasure to meet you.”

Sakura gave out a small, girlish giggle and she playfully nudged Shino. A slight blush shaded his cheeks and Madara was certain there was more to this ‘friendship’ than met the eye—at least on Shino’s part. Madara felt both victorious—because if Sakura’s body language was anything to go by, it wasn’t reciprocated—and at the same a sense of wariness. Coworker relations _were not_ permitted in his companies—unless, of course, they were initiated by him.

Then again, that last part was only known by those who had actually been involved. No need to get anyone’s hopes up.

He and Shino conversed a bit more before Madara nodded and motioned for Sakura to continue with the tour. She waved at Shino, but before she turned away said teasingly, “And you still owe me lunch—today? We need to talk.”

“Alright,” Shino acquiesced. “Come here after your tour.”

Sakura smiled once more at Shino before walking forward and motioning for Madara to follow.

Madara frowned to himself and then made up his mind about the situation.

That would be one lunch date that would not come into fruition, not while he was in LA.

 

Sakura was feeling the toll on her legs as they finally finished the last part of the tour. Luckily Madara hadn’t seen any need in small talk, so she was mostly left to her thoughts; namely, how the _hell_ she was going to deal with James. Given that she was saving up for paying to rent a recording studio, he paid most of the rent. He didn’t have much else to buy in his life other than new Xbox games, weed, booze, and the other usual essentials, so Sakura knew paying extra for rent hadn’t been too taxing on him. But she refused to live with him any longer, so she was going to have to pay for a moving van, get him to sign her off the lease, and find another place to live in the next month. Of course, if she lost her job the way she predicted she would, all of that would be impossible. For now, she just had to focus on what was at hand. Ino would let her stay with her in transition, but they had tried living together once before and quite frankly, they could never do it again and remain friends.

“Well, that’s it,” she said in conclusion. “I’m going to go on lunch break and you probably need to talk to Kakuzu. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Uchiha.”

Madara looked at her pensively and then said, “Come with me to Koi to Hasu?”

Sakura immediately halted in her steps. “Pardon?”

“Koi to Hasu for lunch.”

She laughed nervously. _What is he getting at?_ “I can’t afford that, sir. I’m currently looking for a place to live…”

He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her.

She scrambled to elaborate. “When I needed to be somewhere last night? Yeah…”

He didn’t seem to understand what she was getting at, and that was perfectly fine because she was deliberately making it confusing. She definitely didn’t want to go to lunch with not only the owner of the company she worked but also the man whose car she’d hit less than twenty-four hours ago.

However, as much as he didn’t know what she was implying, he also didn’t seem to budge on the idea of lunch. “It’s on me.”

The staunchness of his voice made it clear she really didn’t have a choice. “Sure, alright. But you should know that I have a boyfriend…he might not be happy with it.” _Yeah, right…_

Madara chuckled. “Whoever said it was a date? I’m simply treating my tour guide to lunch.”

Sakura turned fifty shades of red over the course of two seconds. _Jesus Christ, way to jump the gun! Earth to Sakura, how could you EVER think he’d see you like that?_

“Ahahaha…sorry, I guess wishful thinking.” It was a lie, but it was the only thing she could think of to respond with to save the very little face that she could.

Madara smirked at her and said, “Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Come, we’ll take my car.”

Sakura had nothing left to say that didn’t involve calling him arrogant or conceited, so she silently followed him to his car.

She noticed it was a Ferrari this time and inwardly she frowned. _Of course he wouldn’t drive a damaged car to work…too bad I didn’t have a choice._

“I see you were able to get your car into the shop?” she asked conversationally as she slipped into the passenger seat.

He waved his hand dismissively. “I have an on-site mechanic. It’ll be fixed by tomorrow.”

She resisted grumbling about ‘snobby rich people,’ instead giving a wan smile and letting him focus on getting onto the road.

Sakura would have been completely fine with a silent ride, but Madara obviously wasn’t. “So, you were looking at apartments at eight at night last night?” His voice sounded a little too knowing and Sakura wracked her brain to remember why he would be thinking what he was thinking…

Oh, right. She’d made it sound like she had to see an apartment and that was why she had to leave so quickly. “Well, no, not exactly. I was heading to my friend’s house…girl stuff and all that.”

“Not many people know how to handle Natalia,” he responded, and she guessed he was referring to her lie that she had to be somewhere ‘ten minutes ago.’ “She’s really quite relentless when she’s angry.”

“I never would have guessed…” Sakura mumbled sarcastically under her breath.

However, it seemed Madara had heard. “Indeed. I suppose it’s hard for her, with her father wanting to marry her off to the wealthiest man he can find. She’s quite unhappy in her situation. Everything has a rhyme or reason to it, hm?”

 _Except for this lunch date…_ “I suppose so.”

Soon enough they had arrived, Madara parking in a special VIP spot. Sakura didn’t ask why he had that privilege because quite frankly, she didn’t want to know. For all she cared, it was another one of his ventures in LA.

“You’ve probably not been here before, but it’s based on a very traditional setting from Japan. I assume from your name you’re Japanese-American?”

Glad to be on a relatively safe topic, Sakura nodded and gave a small smile. “My dad was from Japan, mom met him when she was on tour there.”

“Your mother is a musician?” Madara sounded intrigued, and given that despite her parents were dead she had no problems talking about it, Sakura nodded.

“Yeah, she was the bassist for a small band called Endu. They were something of a one-hit wonder, so that was the only time they really left the country, but it was enough to conceive me, so here I am.” They walked inside and the hostess immediately bowed to Madara.

“How nice to see you again, Uchiha-sama. Right this way.” The small Japanese women led them to a table in the back and when motioned to, they both took off their shoes and put them on a small shelf before taking a seat at the low table. “Anything I can get you to drink?”

“A small pot of sake, please. Hot,” Madara ordered. Sakura ordered herself a water and then Madara continued from where they left off.

“Your parents weren’t married?”

Sakura knew the distaste was well-hidden but it was still there. “No. They fell in love, certainly, and my father was there for my birth, but he had a life in Japan and my mom didn’t want to move there. In the end I got his last name because he requested it. I also got dual-citizenship, so I could visit him when I grew old enough. But…well, he passed away before I could meet him.”

Madara looked slightly surprised but also intensely interested, which somewhat frightened her. “And your mother?”

“Oh, she died four years ago. Car wreck and all that. My dad left me some money for when I need it, but seeing as the situation hasn’t arisen, it’s still in stocks at the moment. Other than that, I’m pretty much on my own.”

“No siblings?”

Sakura was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable, as he was clearly prying, but since she didn’t know if this was normal for people of her stature she just shrugged. “Mom never stopped loving Dad. I guess she didn’t have the heart to marry and do the whole thing over. But, you know, it’s all in the past.” _And let’s keep it there._

Madara caught on to the finality in her tone and smiled pleasantly. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to pry.”

She gave him a genuine smile in return. “It’s fine.”

The waitress returned with their drinks and handed them their menus. “I’ll be back in a bit to take your orders.” With a bow, she left and they were alone once more.

Sakura took the menu and before she could even comment on how much good food they had—she was something of a sushi connoisseur because of wanting to be closer to the father she never got to know—her heart was stopped by the prices.

Thirty dollars for a spicy tuna roll?!

 She had to bite her lip to stop herself from demanding they go somewhere cheaper, instead deciding that fine dining could go to hell and she was just going to get the typical American caterpillar roll and the spicy tuna. Her frugal mother was probably rolling in her grave that Sakura was in such a needlessly expensive place.

However, no biting of the lip was going to stop her next comment. “So, do they plate the sushi in gold here or what?”

Madara laughed. “When you come to places like this, you learn to accept that you are paying for the five-star rating more than anything else.”

Sakura couldn’t help but snort. “Are you sure this isn’t a ten-star rating?”

He was still amused. “If such a rating existed, then this would qualify for it.”

“I guess…”

The waitress returned and soon enough, small talk was over and the food had arrived.

 

As he ate, Madara couldn’t help but pay close attention to Sakura’s reactions. When she’d seen the food her eyes had widened disbelievingly, but he couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t the fact that it was so well-prepared so much as the fact that it looked almost like any other sushi restaurant that knew its business. However, anything she could have said she held back, which was unfortunate because it was rather amusing to hear her commentary on the life of the rich and famous.

He supposed what was drawing him was the fact that she was not only unfamiliar with his lifestyle but also didn’t seem all that interested in it, either. She was certainly no gold-digger and her humble attitude was not one he came upon in his daily life. There really wasn’t a reason to, honestly. Why would those who had money stoop to going to lesser places when they could afford better?

They ate silently as she made no move to further conversation and Madara knew that if he continued to investigate what had interested him he would scare her off. She wasn’t the typical woman he would take out on a date, that was certain. And while he’d told her it wasn’t one, this was definitely a date.

Any other man _might_ have been bothered that she had a boyfriend, but he certainly wasn’t.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar ringtone began to play and given that there was no one else in their vicinity, it had to be Sakura’s. Given the way she stiffened ramrod-straight at the tune, it wasn’t someone she wanted to talk to.

“Sorry,” she mumbled before picking up the phone and answering harshly. “What do _you_ want?”

 There was muffled speaking on the other end of the line and Sakura’s expression immediately turned irate. “It’s not like it was a _surprise,_ honey dear.” Her voice was thick with sarcasm. “Just because I don’t put out means you have to find another girl? Why not just break up with me? Or is it because you’re too damn lazy get an apartment on your own, like I’m going to have to do?”

Madara raised his eyebrow with interest but continued eating, not wanting to give Sakura any indication that he was listening, let alone interested.

Sakura snorted disbelievingly at what her assumed-to-be boyfriend said on the other line. “Am I breaking up with you? OF COURSE I’m breaking up with you, you idiot! What kind of person would I be if I didn’t?” The other person spoke, the now-confirmed _ex-_ boyfriend, which was extremely satisfying to know, and then, “Look, you asshole, I have _always_ been understanding of you. If you weren’t happy you should have left. Got it? Now look, I’m BUSY right now. Ya know, like doing something productive with my life? I’ll see you when I come and get my stuff…NO! I don’t want to hear it! BYE!” With that definitive answer, she jabbed at the end-call button and, tossing the phone to the side, buried her face in her hands.

Madara didn’t deem this the right situation to say anything, so he simply continued on eating and decided to let Sakura comment on the interaction if she so pleased.

She didn’t seem to want to. She ate the rest of her food in silence and then pushed the plate away, still obviously dejected by the phone call.

It was then that he realized nothing more would be said unless he initiated it. However, he knew it wouldn’t be wise to continue on the subject that had been inadvertently brought up by the phone call. “How did you manage to get hired with pink hair?”

Sakura looked up at him, lost, as though she’d forgotten he was even there. He inwardly frowned at the notion; he was probably the most famous and important person she’d ever met, and she had forgotten she was in his company? It was extremely irritating.

“Oh, well, Kakuzu was impressed by my resume so he just said to dye over it since I’d obviously dyed it once, but that I was hired. I came back the next day with medical documentation that I was born with pink hair and that it’s natural, giving me no reason to have to dye over it. Of course, he wasn’t happy, but as Ame is an equal-opportunity employer, he couldn’t rightly fire me for that.” She sighed, obviously uninterested in both the conversation and his company. “We’d better get back, huh?”

Madara nodded. He wouldn’t stoop to making her pay attention to him; he was one of the most powerful businessmen in the world, hell, one of the most powerful _people_ in the world. He wasn’t desperate for her attention in any way.

However, as they drove back to Ame and she got out, waving to him placidly before disappearing into the office, he determined that while he wasn’t desperate for her, their time together wasn’t anywhere near over.

Pulling out his smartphone, he quickly dialed up his personal assistant and set her on the job of making sure he got his fill of Sakura Haruno.

 

* * *

 

**Chapter Three: Parties and Poison**

Sakura looked at Ino uncomfortably, glancing between herself in the mirror and the smug expression on her best friend’s face.

“I don’t think I’m going to wear this. I’ll make a fool of myself.”

Ino snorted. “No, you’ll just knock all the guys dead. Come on, Forehead, don’t be a wimp.”

Huffing, Sakura turned back to the body-length mirror, pulling up the upper hem of the strapless red cocktail dress in a futile effort to protect her modesty before dropping her hands in frustration. “No, I’m definitely going to make a fool of myself.”

“Bah humbug,” the blonde retorted. “It’s not like I have anything else that fits you. Unless you’re dying to go back and visit James?”

Sakura couldn’t ignore the jab. “Yeah, in a million years maybe…Fine! I’ll wear it. But if anybody laughs, you’re going to pay.”

“Whatever, Forehead. Just put on the heels. You’re going to be late for the party.”

“I like to be fashionably late,” Sakura snapped at her, but began to put on the matching red pumps. “Besides, it’s not like anybody really cares.”

“The one and only Mr. Uchiha does! You can’t deny that he’s not interested! He took you on a date to one of the most popular sushi bars in LA!”

“Yeah, and definitely the most expensive,” Sakura grumbled. “Whatever. Even if he’s interested, I’m not. Don’t forget what I told you; he’s incredibly arrogant! I don’t want someone like that.

“Besides, it would never work.”

Ino rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I’m sure he’s great in bed.” When Sakura glared at her, Ino mockingly draped the back of her hand over her forehead, creating a dramatic pose. “Oh, woe is me! I forgot you’ve won the Miss Virginity award 26 years in the running!”

“Shut up, Pig. We just have different views on sex. Now I’m leaving.”

“Love you, Forehead. Have a good time!” Ino was practically shooing her out the door. Sakura grudgingly called a ‘Love you too’ before getting into her still-damaged car.

 _I can’t believe I’m going to one of the most powerful men in the world’s party in this piece of shit,_ Sakura grumbled mentally. The car hadn’t been a piece of shit until the crash four night ago, but that was irrelevant. Now she looked just as poor as she was.

Madara had announced after their lunch that he was going to throw a dinner party on Friday evening after work, so everyone was given the afternoon off the day of the party to get ready. _He’s certainly lavish in his spending. But who wouldn’t be with that much money?_

Now, the entire company was attending a mandatory party thrown at the Uchiha’s mansion near Beverly Hills. Parking was going to suck, she just knew it. Ame wasn’t a small company and _everyone_ had to go. Maybe being fashionably late wasn’t such a good idea after all…

Soon enough she was pulling up to the large driveway where cars were parallel-parked bumper to bumper everywhere. Luckily the lot was so big it didn’t seem like there would be a shortage of room, although as she exited her car and assessed how much walking she was going to do in the heels that really weren’t all that comfortable, Sakura wished she’d shown up thirty minutes earlier.

However, she strode with a dignified air through the parking lot until she came upon a familiar car that had just been parked. Walking up to the driver’s window, she tapped on the glass, smiled brilliantly, and waved.

Shino opened the door and stepped out, revealing his tuxedo and classy black leather shoes. “Sakura,” he said. “How good to see you.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I was afraid I wouldn’t know anyone except for Kakuzu, and we all know he’s not fun even in fun settings.”

Shino chuckled. “You’d know better than I would. But yes, it’s fortunate. Let’s head in?”

Sakura nodded and, placing her arm in Shino’s, they made their way for the party.

 

When he saw her walk in on the Aburame’s arm, he was decidedly _not_ pleased.

As he was hosting, there was no reason to have a date, so he’d foregone inviting Natalia. Besides, the brunette would make it much harder to interact with his intended of the night and that was unacceptable. He was flying back to Japan on Sunday and he had to get his fill of Sakura before then.

Any other outcome would be unacceptable.

He continued to make small talk with Kakuzu, who was actually an old friend of his despite their difference in status, waiting for Sakura to leave Shino’s side. Eventually they split, her nodding and waving at him and heading towards the bar.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Madara said to Kakuzu, who humphed and then nodded, downing another shot of whiskey.

“Glad to see you could make it,” he said conversationally as he arrived at her side. She had been in the process of ordering a martini, which he noted.

“Oh, hello Mr. Uchiha,” she said, turning to him and giving him a small smile. “Well, it was kind of mandatory. Can’t lose my job in the middle of a move, right?”

Madara chuckled. “Indeed. And you may call me Madara.”

“Oh…uh, sure.” She nodded at the bartender as she handed her the drink and immediately Sakura gulped it down. “Ahh, I really needed that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Parties are supposed to be enjoyable,” he commented lightly.

Sakura shook her head in disagreement. “It’s not the party, sir. It’s the pre-party. My friend was insistent on me wearing this horrible dress, but since everything else is at my ex’s, I didn’t have much of a choice.”

It was then that Madara took in what she was wearing. The dress wasn’t horrible by any means, that was certain. It clung to her body and perfectly accentuated her bust and curves, as well as revealing a good deal of creamy leg.

“I would have to disagree,” he replied, smirking at her.

“Yeah, I think many men would,” Sakura said airily. “Well, I told Shino I’d meet back up with him for dinner. I’ll see you around.”

Before he could reply, she was gone, her eyes on the alert for Shino.

Madara growled deep in his chest.

 

“What’d you get me?” Sakura asked playfully as she sat down at the round dinner table across from Shino.

“I’ve ascertained that you enjoy sushi—given that you went to Koi to Hasu with Madara instead of meeting me at my office—so I got you some.”

Sakura glared at him. “Thanks, but I already told you that he didn’t really give me much of a choice.”

“That is because you interest him.”

“Why does everyone seem to think that?” Sakura demanded. “Ino, Temari, you, even _TenTen_ thinks so! Doesn’t anybody get that he’s way out of my league? Or more importantly, _I’m not interested back?_ ”

Shino sighed, twirling a bit of his spaghetti in his fork before responding, “To a man of Madara’s status that is unimportant. He is accustomed to getting whatever he desires.”

“Yeah, well he’s going to just have to deal. I’m not sleeping with him and that’s that.”

Shino chuckled lightly at her determination and Sakura huffed.

“You don’t think I’m going to stay true to my word?”

“No, I believe you. But I don’t think he will take no for an answer.”

Sakura raised her eyebrow skeptically. “What, he’s going to rape me?”

At this, Shino conceded. “I suppose not. It would be beneath him.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They ate and laughed—Sakura mostly, Shino wasn’t easily amused—and talked for a good while before Sakura felt the need for another drink. “I’ll be back. I need another one of those apple martinis.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Sakura grinned at him, heading back to the bar. However, on the way she was intercepted by Madara.

“On your way for a drink?” he asked teasingly. Sakura nodded.

“Yeah, I’m not feeling it yet.”

“Here, this one has extra tequila in it.” He handed her a martini and she smiled at him graciously when she noticed it was apple.

“Great, thanks. You’re quite observant, aren’t you?” She supposed he had seen her get the drink when he had approached her—all in all it was a very kind thing to do.

“Always. A businessman must always be aware of what is going on around him.”

“I guess so,” Sakura said. She was just about to excuse herself when he cut her off.

“I assume your car hasn’t been repaired yet?”

“No, I haven’t had the time to be carless. No rest for the wicked, right?”

Madara laughed. “That is so. Well, I was thinking—if you can pay me back, I can ask my mechanic to take a look at it. He could easily repair it in a day, as it was just the bumper, correct?”

Sakura’s eyes lit up at the offer. “Yeah! Would you really do that?”

“Of course. It doesn’t suit someone like you to drive around a damaged car.”

She decided not to look too much into that comment. He was already being so kind to her…it did make her wonder about what her friends were saying, though. Could the great Madara Uchiha have actually taken a liking to her?

 _Don’t be silly,_ she chastised herself. _If anything, he just wants to sleep with you._

At the brief image of sex, suddenly her lower abdomen felt hot, like there had been a rush of blood to it. She inwardly frowned and shrugged it off.

Madara was watching her closely. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she responded, laughing nervously. “Guess maybe I drank a bit too much.” She motioned to her empty glass.

“Well, if you’re still sober enough to meet the mechanic, I can call him up and he can take a look if you’d like.”

“Don’t you have to be here for the party?”

Madara laughed knowingly. “No one will notice if I’m gone for ten minutes.”

Sakura shrugged. “Sure, maybe I can bring the money and drop it off tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back and began to lead her away. Just the warm touch of his hand set fire to her nether regions. _Oh, god…why am I so turned on?_

Perhaps there’d been an attraction to Madara she hadn’t foreseen. All she knew was that it was hard to think with the throbbing in her womanhood.

They left through one of the back doors off the ballroom and he led her down the hallway, apparently towards the mechanic. She didn’t really know…all she knew was that he was rubbing circles on her back with his thumb and she was so incredibly aroused that she wanted his touch _all over_.

Suddenly she stumbled, probably the effect of having drank too much, and he quickly caught her before she fell to the floor. However, when his arm wrapped around her midsection in order to steady her, her body was set on fire.

When she looked up at him, she could see something like concern in his eyes. But there was something else…

“Would you like to lie down for a minute? There’s a sitting room nearby.”

“Yeah…yeah, that might be a good idea,” she replied distractedly. He was still holding her up.

Suddenly, he picked her up bridal style—apparently he didn’t deem her able to walk—and the brushing of his arm under her backside made the flame roar.

She was trying so hard to resist…oh god, his lips were right there and she was _sure_ he wouldn’t mind…they looked so soft, so kissable…

Before she knew it she had pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He gave her an indecipherable look before leaning down and capturing her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth when she moaned.

Nothing had ever felt so good, so _right_ …

Vaguely, a niggling voice in the back of her head cried, _‘But you don’t like him like that!’_

She ignored it and pulled him down by his shirt to kiss him harder, loving the way her loins pulsed at the contact. He had stopped, but eventually he pulled away from her in lieu of entering the sitting room. She protested, whining in back of her throat as her nether regions throbbed and demanded further contact.

However, as soon as he laid her down on the bed, he was on top of her, kissing her again. She moaned into his mouth, running her hands over his back to feel the hard planes of his muscles. He waged war on her tongue, both vying for dominance as his hands busied with pulling down her strapless dress.

The moment he removed her bra and cupped her bare breasts with his strong hands, Sakura almost orgasmed. Her body was on _fire_! She’d never been so easily aroused before…

 _‘This is wrong!’_ the voice insisted, but she again ignored it. It just felt _too good_.

He broke away from the kiss to place his lips over her already-taut nipple and she groaned, gripping his hair tightly as she blindly grinded her hips against his. Oh, when she came it was going to be the best orgasm she’d ever have!

He swirled his tongue around her peak, making her half-scream and, wrapping her legs around his hips, tried to achieve the orgasm she was _so close_ to.

Suddenly Madara stopped, Sakura groaned, trying to pull him back down, but he pecked her on the lips and then said huskily, “Take it off.”

_‘No!’_

The voice was shushed and hastily Sakura stripped herself as he did the same. She immediately climbed on top of his sitting form, making sure he didn’t penetrate her.

Why didn’t she want him to penetrate her? She couldn’t fathom why not, but…

_‘You don’t want this!’_

She began to grind against his length, the intensity of the pleasure that the contact brought her nearly sending her over the edge. However, he gripped her hips and lifted them, obviously wanting to be inside her.

_‘NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! STOP! THIS IS WRONG!’_

The voice finally broke through her foggy mind and she realized what was going on. She was about to have sex with Madara! Which she had said she wouldn’t do! Which she didn’t _want_ to do!

When he made to pull her hips down on top of him, she fought.

“No,” she panted raggedly. “No, this is wrong. I have to go.” She looked at him apologetically and didn’t expect to see the fiery rage in his eyes.

“No, you don’t.”

She frowned, attempting to pull away from him. The lust was dissipating quickly. “Yes, I do.”

Sakura attempted to wrench her body away from him but instead, he flipped them over so he was on top. He kissed her again and she felt the lust flare once more, but this time she fought it. He had spread her legs and was seconds away from penetration when she panicked, using all her strength to push him off. The tip of his head had just barely grazed against her opening and the fear of what was to come gave her the extra push she needed to get away.

It barely did the job, but she finished it by rolling off the couch from underneath him, grabbing her discarded dress and stumbling for the door to leave.

He reached to grip her hand to pull her back but she snatched it away at the first second of contact, suddenly terrified. She left everything—her heels, her bra, her underwear—and used the dress to shield her as she booked it down the hall.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was not behind her, so she slipped into the first door she came across and immediately locked it behind her.

Sakura sank to her knees, panting so fast she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She clutched the dress to her body, trying to figure out what had just happened.

 _How did that even happen? I have NO attraction for him…especially not now! What the fuck…what did I just do?_ She looked back over the fragments of her memory, wincing when she realized how she had acted. _God, he must have thought I was easy! But I would never normally act like that…Christ, James couldn’t even get me that far and we were in a relationship!_

However, she couldn’t forget what position she was in so shakily, she stood up and put the dress back on. She would just have to sneak through the crowd…she couldn’t stay here another second.

With trembling fingers she opened the door and peered out the hallway. No sign of Madara…good.

As fast as she could, she left the party—somehow, nobody noticed or nobody cared about her attire or rather, lack thereof, and next thing she knew she was backing out of the driveway and on her way back to Ino’s.

Her heart couldn’t stop pounding the entire way home.

 

Madara stalked through the crowd, looking for her. He had already seen Shino and the man was alone, nursing a Coke and rum, and the pink of her hair couldn’t be found anywhere.

He growled, his face only showing the slightest of emotion, but inside he was furious.

He had been so, so close—he had even brushed against her smooth lower lips, and now he was aching for more.

It wasn’t the kind of ache he had when he was cut short from sleeping with someone because of a business call, having to redress and leave in mere minutes. It wasn’t the ache he had when he desired someone. No, this ache was a burning, raging fire that demanded one body and one body alone—Sakura Haruno’s. And now she was gone and he’d never be able to fulfill that desire.

When he was certain she had left, or was at least unattainable for the moment, he retreated to the bar for a shot of gin. The liquid burned his throat but instead of taking the edge off his anger, it solidified it. How _dare_ she deny him? Who did she think she was?

The drugs were supposed to have worked. He’d already been aware that he’d never be able to get her in bed without much more work, given that it already seemed she wasn’t all that interested. He’d given her enough aphrodisiacs to turn on an elephant…why hadn’t it worked? Fury coursed through his veins. He was supposed to be fucking her brains out right now, satisfying his lust, not fuming over the fact that she had escaped.

He walked over to Kakuzu and curtly told him that he would be retiring for the night. The man was not at all surprised and simply nodded, saying he would tell anyone who needed to know.

Madara seethed as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom. He almost felt bad for her, in a way. She shouldn’t have denied him. It would have been so much simpler for her if she’d just stayed.

Madara Uchiha was not one to allow something he wanted to escape him. She would be his…and perhaps he’d keep her. At least until she was tamed, until she knew who her superiors were and would act accordingly.

Until she wanted him back, he would not let her go.

 _This isn’t over, Sakura dear. You shouldn’t have denied me…now you will be_ mine.

He smirked to himself. “Make no mistake about that.”

* * *

 

**Chapter Four: Dire Straights**

When Sakura got home, Ino was out. She’d left a note that she was with Shikamaru, _‘Convincing that lazyass to go for the girl’_ and Sakura was relieved. She had calmed down somewhat and all she wanted to do was go to sleep.

Stripping down and then putting on a large t-shirt and boy boxers, she immediately fell to the couch and let unconsciousness wash over her.

 

“What do you mean, my credit isn’t good enough? I’ve been on time for payments for seven years now!”

“I apologize, ma’am, but we can’t accept an application from you.”

Sakura fought the raging anger inside of her and nodded, snatching up her purse from the seat beside her and storming out the door.

This was the seventh apartment that had denied her and she was running out of options. She couldn’t fathom why no one would take her in—they all said the same things; her credit score wasn’t good enough or they had no availability. It seemed really strange to her that her credit score was that bad because every time she checked it herself, it was the same as it had always been: HIGH. It made no sense and she couldn’t help but feel as though life was working against her.

It had been two weeks since the incident with Madara and thankfully, she hadn’t seen him since then. She didn’t think she could live through the embarrassment of seeing him again after what had happened…yeah. Yeah, that was _never_ going to happen. Not if she could help it.

Since he hadn’t come to LA since 2009, his last visit notwithstanding, she was sure that she’d either have become a famous singer by the next time he came to the United States or she’d have found a better job. It seemed a better job was a good idea. Maybe then she’d make so much over the rent that they _couldn’t_ deny her.

But she didn’t have time for a job change. She had to find somewhere to live. She and Ino were already starting to bicker like five-year-olds and that was the telltale sign that they were spending too much time together. Sakura valued Ino as a friend and couldn’t afford to lose her over something as silly as a living situation, not when they’d been friends since fourth grade.

Sakura glanced at the clock on the dashboard of her still-unrepaired car. _Shit,_ she thought. Only ten minutes until she had to go back to work.

She rushed into the office, having barely had the time to pick up a to-go meal from a popular but _cheap_ Chinese restaurant, and arrived huffing and puffing at her desk.

Not more than five minutes later Kakuzu approached her, looking disgruntled. She assumed she’d messed something up, but Kakuzu didn’t look angry. He just looked…uncomfortable.

“Haruno,” he said gruffly. “Come to my office.”

Swallowing hard and wondering if her day could get any worse, Sakura nodded and stood, following him to the back, where his workspace was.

“Have a seat,” he motioned. _Oh god, I’m getting fired…_ Sakura couldn’t help the look of despair that etched her face.

“Should I pack my things?” she asked as he sat down.

Kakuzu harrumphed and gave her a scolding look. “Yes, if you’re accepting the job transfer.”

Sakura’s jaw dropped. “The-the what?”

“The higher-ups in Kyoto want you to work at the base in Sapporo. It’s a managerial position for the marketing department of Uchiha Industries.”

Sakura’s jaw hit the floor. “Why?” It was all she could manage.

“You tell me,” Kakuzu grumbled. “Now I’m short a decent worker-” that was the closest Kakuzu would ever get to complimenting one of his employees, so Sakura took it to heart “-and I have to find a new secretary. Just _ask_ me what I think of bureaucracy.”

“Well…well what if I don’t want to go?” Sakura asked.

Kakuzu huffed. “You’d be stupid not to. Paid living expenses and great salary.”

“But I don’t want to go,” she said stubbornly.

This didn’t seem to please him. “For Christ’s sake, Haruno! I know you’re all for the proletariat, but can’t you just accept when something good is going to happen to you? You don’t have to live like a peon your entire life!”

Sakura had never seen her boss show concern for anybody and to see it aimed at her was somewhat…touching, despite his unconventional way of going about it. She drooped her head. “I just…my life is here, you know? I can’t even speak Japanese.”

Kakuzu rolled his eyes. “Oh, didn’t I mention that? They’re paying for a language class—extremely expensive one, might I add—to get you jumpstarted into the culture. How’s that for a sweet deal?”

“I don’t understand…why?”

He didn’t quite seem comfortable with answering this one. “I suppose Madara saw potential in you.” His voice was strained and he sounded quite unhappy with what he was saying, but Sakura didn’t see that due to her immediate stiffening when _his_ name was mentioned.

“Mr. Uchiha is involved?”

This seemed to put Kakuzu on edge, but he responded in the most uncertain voice she’d ever heard him use, “Somewhere along the line he was.”

Sakura felt a pit in her stomach likeable to suspicion, but she supposed it was probably more so apprehension. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed to solve her problems, although create many more in the process. It solved the living situation, but she wouldn’t be near any of her friends. Then again, other than her friends, there really wasn’t anything tying her to the United States…

Ino was going to kill her.

“I-I guess I’ll do it. I seem to be having a hard time finding a place to live in LA anyways, and this job doesn’t have to be permanent. It’s not binding or anything, is it?”

Kakuzu shook his head. “No, you can back out any time you want. Although it might be difficult to leave.”

Sakura raised her eyebrow at that, but Kakuzu hurried on.

“Well, then I’ll give HR in Sapporo the go-ahead. They’ll be contacting you with flight information and everything else you’ll need to know. You only have to pack clothes, though, the entire place is furnished.”

“Ah,” was all she could reply with. She couldn’t imagine why all this was being done for an hourly worker, but it was. However, the opportunity was just too good to pass up. And if she didn’t like it, she could always go back home.

She supposed Kakuzu said it would be difficult to leave because of the salary, which he had implied was good.

Kakuzu nodded sharply. “Well, then go pack your things. You’re on worker’s comp with this job until you’re transferred, at which point they’ll update your pay.”

Sakura stood at the same time as Kakuzu and he held out his hand to her.

“You’ve been a hard worker and I wish you the best in Sapporo.” His voice was gruff and his eyes more unreadable than ever.

Sakura smiled and shook his hand. “Thank you for this opportunity, sir. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

As Sakura was closing the door, she could swear she heard him pound on his desk and mutter a string of cuss words. One of them sounded like, _“If he does, so help me God…”_

It made no sense and Sakura brushed it off; it felt good to know Kakuzu valued her so much.

 


	4. Promises [Indra/Sakura] NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr drabble.
> 
> Explicit sexual content, enthusiastic consent, fluff.

“Tell me no,” he breathed onto her neck, pulling away from the open-mouthed kiss he had placed there.

Sakura took a deep, shuddering breath. She had never intended to let things get this far with him, with Indra, Sasuke’s original soul. How had they gotten in this situation.

When Indra had left his family officially after his battle with Ashura, Sakura had left on her own to try to reason with him. If he could be swayed, yes, her future would disappear. Yes, she might also disappear. But so would Naruto’s suffering, so would Sasuke’s, so would all her friends. She knew they would all still live, somehow, some way, but they could be happier. Naruto could be loved, could have his parents. Sasuke never would have been broken by the massacre of his family. Everything, even if she disappeared, would be better for her loved ones. They were the reason she’d come back to the very beginning in the first place. If only Indra could be swayed.

She hadn’t counted on their mutual attraction getting in the way of that.

Sakura had followed Indra for miles, and though he had known she was following him, he hadn’t stopped until they reached a private clearing. There, she had tried to speak, but Indra’s anger, his heartbreak and pain, had had her start with comforting him instead.

An embrace led to a passionate kiss, which had turned into dozens, which had had Indra pushing her down, kneeling in between her legs and kneading her breasts. Sakura couldn’t stop her moans, her urges to go forward, but Indra still stopped to ask for her agreement. It touched her. Even though he was in so much pain, even though they both needed this—as though their attraction would lead anywhere else—he had asked her.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, just before grinding her core against his length, spurring him forward.

Indra didn’t hesitate after that. The hand that had been kneading through her clothing quickly slipped under her shirt and tore at her bindings until her breasts were free of their constriction. Talented fingers toyed with her peak, alternating between teasingly circling her areola and pinching her nipple, a technique that left her out of breath and her lower abdomen clenching.

She moaned loudly into the air, but Indra captured her lips once again and tangled their tongues together feverishly. He didn’t stop his ministrations, only switched to her other breast, and Sakura couldn’t help keening into his mouth. It was a feeble protest, but that didn’t stop its seriousness.

Having had enough of his teasing, Sakura fumbled with his trousers until she freed his member, and as her small hand wrapped around it, she couldn’t help the groan of appreciation at his size. Equally, Indra hissed a breath and thrust into her hand, distracting him from his teasing of her breasts. However, Sakura was out for pleasurable revenge and instead of gripping him firmly like she had before, she eased her twisting movements into delicate stroking, stimulating but not nearly enough.

“Vixen,” Indra accused breathlessly, and his hand almost violently ripped away from her chest before diving under her skirt and rubbing her core deliciously—but just as teasingly as she was with his member.

“Ass,” Sakura accused back between pants, and in order to get what she wanted, she gripped him hard again and gave him what he wanted.

Immediately his fingers slipped underneath her panties and entered her forcefully, eliciting a mix of pleasure and pain that had her nearly coming right then. She had never felt so much pleasure in her entire life.

As he curled his fingers and pressed against both bundles of nerves, the heel of his palm grinding against her clit and his index and middle fingers stroking the perfect spot within her, Sakura could only pant once, twice, and then she was clenching around him, her thighs trembling with the force of her orgasm. Her hand stopped its motions around his length only to tighten her grip on him, probably painfully, but Indra groaned into her neck as though it was exactly what he wanted and bit down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Where her orgasm had nearly faded, it was suddenly brought back with violent force.

Sakura couldn’t help her keening cry as her walls pulsed so strongly she could feel the movement. She bucked against his hand helplessly, but before her second orgasm had finished, Indra removed his hand and started to tear at the waist of her skirt.

“You dick!” Sakura cried angrily as her walls pulsed uselessly against nothing, her pleasure ebbing in a way that left her feeling unfinished and on edge. She tried to grab his hand and lead it back to her opening but he resisted, much stronger than her without her chakra-enhanced strength.

“I’m giving you something much better,” he reassured smugly, and once her skirt was finally torn away, Indra pulled her hands together and pinned them against her chest. “Be patient, minx.”

Flushed and chest heaving, Sakura gritted out, “Don’t you dare think I can wait right now. Hurry up.”

That made Indra move even slower than he had been already and in retaliation, she launched herself forward and bit him in the same place he had bit her.

He growled with animalistic intensity, a wracking shudder shaking his whole body, and pushed her down by her neck, lightly squeezing to keep her from doing it again. Except, to Sakura’s surprise, the gentle pressure on her neck made her juices flow harder, drenching her thighs and even pooling on the grass beneath them.

“Will you behave?” he asked tauntingly, rubbing the tip of his head against her clit, teasing.

“Yes,” she hissed angrily, “Just fuck me already!”

Indra frowned at her, a sudden mood shift. “This isn’t fucking,” he said seriously. “This is _making love._ ”

“I don’t care what it is!” Sakura said pleadingly. “Making love, okay! Now please, _please_ make love to me already!”

Indra smiled, a cruel edge to it, and then with force that should have hurt but only turned her on more, he sheathed himself in her to the hilt. Both of them stilled, Sakura trying to relax against the mildly painful stretching he was causing and him likely trying not to come immediately.

Eventually, Sakura had adjusted and Indra had collected himself, and so with a loose buck of her hips to encourage him, Indra picked up a slow, steady paced that had her gasping for more.

 _“Please,_ ” she begged, over and over. _“Please, faster, harder!”_

Indra smirked at her and then, after a few more agonizing thrusts, he picked up the pace and began to pound into her just the way she wanted.

Sakura felt the orgasm that had been left unfinished come back with a vengeance. Her legs wrapped around his waist, opening her to him until he could go no deeper, and she flexed her inner muscles to squeeze him in order to encourage his strongest, fastest movements.

He hissed at her unexpected manipulation of her core and stuttered to halt. “Don’t do that unless you want me to finish before you,” he growled.

Sakura wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. “Then _hurry the fuck up._ ”

He laughed, genuinely amused and obviously pleased at her desperate need for him. However, he displayed a similarly desperate need when he finally put his full effort into his movements and Sakura found herself cresting almost immediately, waves of pleasure crashing over her like a tsunami as her walls clamped down on him.

She couldn’t stop her scream, and vaguely she heard the flapping of wings as bird vacated the vicinity. Indra quickly followed, unable to resist at her blatant pleasure and the walls milking him so perfectly. Increasing his pace for his crescendo, he released himself inside her until he was spent.

After mutually catching their breaths and coming down from the most intense orgasm either of them had ever hand, Indra rolled off her only to pull her into his arms and nuzzle her hair.

“Stay with me,” he murmured. “Stay with me and help me start my clan.”

Sakura froze. “I…I can’t.”

“Why not?” he replied, indignant but not properly angry…yet.

She swallowed hard. “I…can’t have children.” Indra stiffened. Sakura pushed back tears because right now, she _did_ want to have his children, as many as she could—build the strongest family that would ever come to fruition. She would use that time to convince him to change his mind, and perhaps things would change without her having to disappear. She could guide things properly, the way she needed to.

But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t give him what he wanted.

He was silent for a long time, and Sakura waited with tears in her eyes for him to pull away. But then he took a deep breath and said, “We’ll find a surrogate. Can you do that much?”

Sakura’s eyes widened and she finally looked up at him. “You’d…you’d be alright with that?”

Indra looked back at her, eyes blazing intensely and with a fire she’d never seen before. “I’d do anything for you,” he replied heatedly. Then, after a moment of hesitation, “I love you.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” she said, avoiding the fact that while she was attracted, she didn’t think she knew him well enough to say the same.

“You can tell me when you’re ready,” he said, not seeming bothered by the fact she hadn’t returned the sentiment. “I’ll wait forever for you.”

The tears finally fell, not of sadness but of pure, unadulterated gratitude and affection intertwined.

“You won’t have to wait long,” she said and gave him a blinding smile.

“I hope not,” he whispered, adoration in his eyes, and then kissed her again, chaste and gentle.

Sakura pulled away and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. “I promise.”


	5. Competition [Tentacruel/Original Female Character] NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tentacle porn, seen now and never to be seen again.
> 
> (I did not write this I did not write this I did not write this I did not - )
> 
> Pokephilia, beastiality, noncon, tentacle porn.

The seawater was cold to her bare skin, the flimsy bikini she wore doing nothing to protect her from the temperature of deeper waters.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to be out this late at night, especially not so far into the ocean. A riptide could take her away at any time, even though her jetski was so nearby. It was also not so smart to go out like this alone, but the tide was high and the ocean was calm, so she indulged in her reckless behavior and enjoyed the cool moonlight.

When she felt the first slither of something against her ankle, she felt nothing but a jolt of mild surprise, thinking that it was just some seaweed, although there shouldn’t have been any this far out. Safe in her belief, she still twisted around in the water to head back closer to her jetski. No use in being pointlessly reckless.

When there was another brush against her breasts, which were pebbled from the cold, she gasped. Her breasts had been strangely sensitive to whatever had touched her, and she decided that she didn’t feel as safe anymore. She quickly paddled back to the jetski and placed her hand on the edge.

She screamed when slimy tentacles wrapped fully around her ankles, and then another two—obviously from another Pokemon—anchored her hands to the jetski.

Twisting and turning, she soon realized that she had attracted a male Tentacruel and his entourage of Tentacool. Those were undoubtedly the owners of the tentacles who kept her bound in place.

The Tentacruel was floating partially out of the water and slowly made its way over to her. She turned to face it, to fight, and she was surprised when the movement was allowed. However, she was soon trapped in another position, so that she was facing upwards towards the Pokemon.

It made a low rasping sound as it settled over her, dozens of tentacles slithering down and caressing her body.

Two were very quick to dislodge her bikini top, baring her breasts to the creature. Its tentacles wrapped around her small globes and twisted, massaging her breasts and twirling around her rosy peaks. She gasped, terrified, realizing that this specific Tentacruel was one of the ones that had been terrorizing the female population as of late with their massive need to breed.

She screamed, and a tentacle found its way into her mouth. It began to gently fuck her there, going lower and lower into her mouth until she was deepthroating it, the chemicals being emitted forcing her to relax.

More tentacles ran gently up and down her waist, but she could not be distracted from the tentacles easing her bikini bottoms downwards. Her legs were spread as far as they could go and two tentacles massaged the insides of her thighs, slithering and contracting.

Then she felt one brush against her clit and she moaned against the tentacle in her mouth.

With a sudden push, it was inside her. Another one followed, this one thinner, and they began to pump in and out of her, massaging her insides and moving incongruously. It felt amazing, to her shocked mind, and she couldn’t help but moan.

However, it was then that yet another tentacle began probing her ass. She jerked and struggled, but it forced its way inside her. Then another followed, and another, and a third was forced inside her pussy. She was overly full, and they were all fucking her incongruously but in some kind of synchronization.

Then another, and another were forced into her ass, filling her to the brim and emitting that chemical that made her relax. More still entered her pussy, and more filled her mouth. The Tentacruel was now almost enveloping her body, his other tentacles massaging her torso and legs in time with the thrusts into her body. Two tentacles slithered over her breasts, and more wrapped around her neck.

She writhed, holding on for dear life as suddenly her body began to contract around the tentacles. Massaging and slickening them as she gasped for air and milked them for all they were worth, suddenly the Tentacruel was coming inside her, thick bursts of semen from every tentacle swelling her from the inside out. Her womb bulged with the deluge, streams of come from at least four tentacles in her mouth forcing their semen down her throat, and she felt hot streaks filling her rear. It was dirty and horrible, and she writhed, but they only plunged inside her harder until she was coming again.

The mass undulation of tentacle against and inside body, contracting and writhing and pushing nad pulling eventually reached a crescendo, and her body clenched one last, deafening time before she was completely devoid of energy. Slowly, the Tentacruel and its Tentacool brethren released her, the water around them tainted white with slowly dispersing semen.

Barely conscious from the overstrain, she was hardly aware of being lifted into the seat of her jetski, safe for another night if she could get back to shore before a competitor came along…


	6. Bungee Gum [Hisoka/Reader] SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Hisoka bond over new flavors of Bungee Gum. Unfortunately, Hisoka wants to take your bond to a new level and you... don't.
> 
> Kidnapping, stalking, yandere!Hisoka. SFW, sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might continue this into a second part if requested. As it is, I'm okay with where it ends. :)

The first time you meet your future nightmare, you’re doing a Bungee Gum promotion on a prominent corner of foot traffic in Yorknew City.

You’ve been given a few boxes of Bungee Gum to hand out to passersby, promoting the newest flavors, Raspberry Blue and Apple Green. So far they’ve been a hit, and every empty box you come back to the warehouse with gives you a significant boost in your pay for the week. It’s almost like being on commission but without the car salesman schmoozing.

The days start off pretty slow; most people are on their way to work and prefer caffeine over sugary bubblegum. There’s the usual lunch rush, where you usually empty out most of your boxes, and then you just have to get rid of the rest by four-thirty to return to the warehouse, clock out, and go home.

In the mornings, you people watch. It’s a thing for you: the background buzzing of vehicles and subways; the murmur of hundreds of people on cellphones or otherwise speaking; the honking of taxis and angry shouting; people powerwalking to their destinations in a hurry, expertly avoiding bumping into each other; it’s all people immersed in their day, going about life as usual. You enjoy watching them, making up stories in your mind and finding out new ones when you actually speak to someone who stops by. People are pretty easy to chat with when receiving free candy, or just ready to go about their day without speaking. The few rude customers you’ve had have been little more than blips on your radar. You worked in retail all throughout college, including during holidays. You’re nearly immune to it now.

It’s one particularly cloudy morning, rain threatening to cut your workday short, when you meet him.

The first thing you notice is his hair, a bright, unnatural red. The next is his strange, clown-or-jester-like clothing. Then the makeup and his tall, muscular build that would intimidate anyone in their right mind—like you.

The last is the golden, foxlike eyes, slanted with uncanny interest at your little setup.

You blink, taking him in for a moment, because for some reason this man wants bubblegum, of all things. Then again, you can’t really get a read on him, and would it be so weird if he just wanted to try it out? You’ve been hugely successful so far, enough that you’re moving to a different street starting next week. You can only reach so many people in one place.

“Here for some free Bungee Gum?” you ask, slotting your professional and friendly customer service face on. It’s a little more difficult than usual, but you’ve encountered plenty of weird people in Yorknew City. That’s just the nature of the beast in a city this big.

Still, for all the weird people you’ve encountered, none of them has had the short hairs on the nape of your neck stand so tall, a prickling sense of _predator_ humming through your veins.

“Yes,” he replies, eyes moving from you to the display. “Apple Green is a rerun, did you know? But I haven’t tried the Raspberry Blue.”

Oh, this is easy. You’ve heard this plenty of times before. “We’ve actually made some alterations to the ingredients in Apple Green to give it a crisper, more authentic taste. If you’re an old fan, I think you should give it a try.” You give him a wide smile, feeling better now that you’re in your element.

“Oh?” he muses. “What ingredients did you change?”

He asks this like he’s genuinely curious, and from the serious look in his eyes, maybe he actually cares. If he can really tell the difference just from a few changed chemicals, kudos to him. You’re just glad you’ve done your research.

“Well, for one, the citric acid we used for the sour sanding has been replaced with a gentler form of tartaric acid, which makes it a little less tart while keeping true to the brand. We’re also in the process of replacing the corn syrup with more natural sweeteners in all our gum, starting with the Apple Green, lowering the calorie count and giving it a more natural flavor.”

The man is listening carefully. You’re surprised he’s as interested in the chemistry of the gum as you are—once upon a time, you had planned to become a chemic and had been studying for a chemistry major in university. It’s part of the reason you were chosen for this promotion, in case anyone was interested in the finer details. Secretly, you’re hoping you can get transferred into the designer department, where you’ll have an actual hand in creating the gum itself.

“And? Those are fairly basic changes,” the man goes on. He smiles, a cheshire grin. “Convince me.”

All fear is gone now. You like this guy and the challenge he presents. A victorious grin on your face, you pick out two sticks of Apple Green and offer one to him. With the other one, you take a quick refresher glance at the ingredients before popping it into your mouth.

“Okay, so you feel that little tingle on the first bite?” Seeing what you’re doing, he accepts the stick of gum and puts it into his mouth, chewing the first time. “That wasn’t there before because the tartness was too intense for anyone to notice. If you’re familiar with real green apples, you’ll know that there’s a similar tingle in the first bite as well. We decided to change the soy lethicin to a subtler…”

Your promotion actually gathers a little bit of a crowd, and before you know it, you’re going through the whole process again with a new group of people. Only a few of them actually know what you’re talking about, you’d guess, but they all like being guided through the flavors and the changes being explained.

The man, long done with his own demonstration, has decided to linger for whatever reason. Eventually, the crowd disperses, but you think you’ll try that again on Monday. It wasn’t even the lunch rush and you only have three-fourths of a box of Apple Green left and two and a half of Raspberry Blue.

As soon as the counter is clear, the man steps up again. “I’ll have an Apple Green,” he says. “You were right about the changes… and the chemicals themselves. Are you one of the designers?”

You pass him the stick and smile sheepishly. “A hopeful, at least.” He turns to leave without acknowledgement and you know your line. “Have a nice day!”

He raises a lazy hand as he walks away, and you feel like you’ve just won a tournament of some kind, your sense of victory is so great.

* * *

On Monday, you’ve moved your little stall to an even more populated street corner. There’s the initial flock of people who are all interested to try out the new flavors, and you try your demonstration on them with the Apple Green. It’s intensely popular, like you’re doing some kind of stage performance, and some people even offer tips, though you’re not actually allowed to take them.

You decide to try one for the Raspberry Blue tomorrow, just to see how it goes.

You’re packing up your boxes for the day. It’s not even two o’clock and your boxes are empty except for one Raspberry Blue you were saving for yourself, so there’s nothing left but to head back and see if you’re needed anywhere else. It’s too late to send you back out with more boxes, but you’re going to have to start bringing more if they’re going to go so quickly.

“Already done for the day?” a vaguely familiar voice asks you.

You turn, and there’s the man who had started these demonstrations the first day. “Oh, hello,” you say, genuinely happy to see him. He’s made your slow days a lot less boring, and now you seem to be busy all day long. “Can I help you?”

“I never got to try the Raspberry Blue,” he says.

You think of the singular leftover stick you had been saving for yourself and wilt internally. Raspberry Blue is your favorite, but you suppose you can always get one from the office. They’re essentially free, and employees are allowed to have them whenever a promotion is going on, anyways.

“No problem,” you say, taking out the last stick of gum. “I hope you enjoy!”

His fingers brush against yours as he takes the gum. Your own tingle with awareness, how heated his brief touch was. His skin almost seemed preternaturally warm, and with winter on its way, you can appreciate warmth.

The man pauses before putting the gum into his mouth. “Your stall moved,” he says neutrally. “It took some time to find it.”

You give him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. We’re thinking about putting up more stalls around Yorknew since this one has been so popular, so I’m sure they’ll be more accessible soon.” Grinning, you reassure him, “But I’m not moving for a while, so you can always come back here.”

And he does.

Almost every day.

Enough that you regret the invite.

It weirds you out a little, to be honest, but he keeps sampling the gum, and while this is kind of against the spirit of the promotion, you can’t really just tell him no—that’s bad rep. He strikes up a conversation every time, and you humor him until another customer comes up. At that point, he usually leaves unless he hasn’t said his whole piece, which you then have to endure.

Honestly, at this point, you’re starting to feel a little creeped on. You’re at work, so you’re a captive audience, and while you’re still grateful for the idea for a demonstration, him showing up every day… is kind of annoying.

You never get a chance to people watch anymore. It’s usually during your slow time that the man shows up, so while talking to him at first is distracting and interesting, after a while you just want your time alone back. He’s gone by lunch rush, but you inevitably know that the next day he’ll be there, maybe for more than the standard thirty minutes to an hour.

“What’s your name?” you ask one day. He can see yours, it’s on some cardstock paper to get that general introduction out of the way and instill a sense of familiarity, or something like that HR had said, but you’ve never heard his, not at all in the last two months.

Oh, and that’s the worst part of it all. You had requested to be moved at one point, just to escape him but under the professional guise of things slowing down in that area, but he showed up no later than usual the next day.

His eyebrows raise in surprise, and there’s a pleased look in his eyes. You didn’t mean to cause _that_ reaction. “Why, it’s Hisoka,” he says flamboyantly.

“Hisoka,” you repeat.

The topic today, strangely enough, somehow morphs into a discussion of your love lives. Hisoka doesn’t really seem to have one, and by the time he’s asking you about yours, so many red flags are going off in your head that you have to give him at least _some_ kind of rejection.

“Well, you know, I really shouldn’t be talking about this on the job…” you tell him leadingly.

“Then how about over coffee?”

You had been dreading this potential interaction. You had been hoping it wouldn’t happen, but all the signs have been leading to it for almost too long. “I’m… sorry, but I’d rather… not.”

His eyes flash so quickly that you can’t tell what he’s thinking, but then he smiles and says, “Dinner?”

Oh no, not one of these kinds of people. “No,” you say firmly at the risk of being reprimanded. “I’m not interested.”

His eyes narrow and flash again, and your internal alarms immediately raise. There was something… _dangerous_ in that look. A true warning sign if there ever was one.

He opens his mouth again but you cut him off. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Hisoka. I really need to focus on my job and this is inappropriate.”

Any hint of warning is gone immediately. “Of course,” he says, Cheshire smile in place. “Enjoy the sun. I hear it’s going to rain soon.”

That little comment has your hackles raising, as innocuous as it is, and you stubbornly check the weather. No, clear skies all through this week and into the next. You don’t know what his deal was with that parting remark, but nonetheless you’re on guard until the next day it rains and he doesn’t show up.

Then next day is a downpour, your stall is canceled for the day so you work your usual shift, and on your way home, Hisoka firmly out of your mind and your guard totally down, you’re wrapped in a strong, sudden embrace and dragged into an alleyway.

You scream and struggle, but your assailant is not only strong but dwarfs you. His hand is so large over your hand that none of your sounds escape. “It’s so good to see you again,” the man says, breathing in your scent deeply. “I’ve missed you so much.” He nuzzles his face into your shoulder.

 _Hisoka?_ you think wildly.

“Let me take you home,” he says, biting down hard on your neck. You cry out and he bites harder before releasing you, breaking the skin. You shriek and try kicking him in the shins, aiming for his balls, but you can’t reach and he squeezes you so tight in reprimand that you wheeze the next couple of breaths. His tongue then darts out, tasting the blood that has slowly seeped out of the wound. “Oh, I can’t wait to have you. I bet you taste better than Bungee Gum~”

You shriek, struggling desperately. He can’t be serious. There’s no way—you rejected him—why hadn’t you—

Then there’s a hard pinch to your neck and your world goes dark.

When you wake up, home is the last place you are.


	7. Never [Izaya/Reader] NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You broke up with Izaya a while ago. You thought he had moved on.
> 
> He hasn't.
> 
> Noncon, mental illness, kidnapping, slight Shizuo/Reader, psychotic!Izaya, delusional!Izaya, yandere!Izaya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!

Izaya has decided to surprise you for Christmas with a wonderful gift: himself.

Yes, he knows you broke up with him two months ago. He’s been counting the days, waiting for you to realize that you’re better off with him, that you miss him, that you love him and leaving was a mistake. You’re being stubborn about the whole thing, but you’ve always been stubborn.

“Izaya, why do you provoke Shizuo like that?”

“Izaya, why do you mess around with these kids’ minds like this?”

“Izaya, why don’t you get a job that’s legal?”

“Izaya, why don’t you just cut ties with these gangs? You don’t need them anymore.”

You had been a nag almost the entire six-month relationship, and he had, for the most part, ignored you, but that was just how you were. It was the way you showed you cared about him, and either way, you both were happy together. You stopped caring about his dubious sources of income and he made sure to reward you with his love, to make overt gestures to show that you were precious, you were his priority, you were _the one_.

Izaya had once sworn to himself never to get involved with things like love, but you were special. He’d do anything for you. That’s why, on this particular Christmas Eve, he’s going to re-establish contact with you. Your request for him to never contact you again was just a paltry attempt to get over your love with him after you found out about Nakura. Obviously, he’d stopped his online suicide pacts after he met you, but for some reason, you seemed to find him unfaithful for it—that’s why you had left.

“Izaya, I—I can’t believe you! You messed around with _teenage girls_? You exploited them like that for your own amusement?” He’ll never forget the horror on your face. At the time, he’d thought you’d get over it, like every other questionable thing he’d done, because you two were _meant to be_. But the next morning, after you left angrily the night before, you’d called him to tell him that it was over, you wanted nothing to do with him, and for him to never contact to you again. It wasn’t in his nature to apologize, but he’d done his best—didn’t you see that you were his endgame? The only one he’d ever allow himself to truly love?

But for all his efforts, you weren’t satisfied. Eventually, you hung up the phone, cutting him off without even saying goodbye. You changed your number the day after he tried to call you back, but getting that information was easy. He knew where you lived, your habits, your routines. He’d respected you, though, waiting for you to come back to him.

Now, though…

It’s Christmas Eve. He doesn’t want to spend tomorrow without you.

So he walks up to your apartment building, buzzes himself in with your changed code, and goes to your apartment to wait.

The lights are off inside, and he realizes that for all the time he spent checking up on you, you’re out this evening. But you had mentioned before that you usually spent Christmas Eve with family. He’s not worried. He breaks into your apartment with a simple lockpicking and goes to wait on your couch in the darkness. He wants his gift to be a surprise, after all.

After about a half-hour, he hears your voice. He can hear the smile in it, the laughter, and smiles himself. He’s glad you’re having a good evening; he hopes he can make it even better for you. You’ll both look back on this and call it the perfect Christmas Eve.

But then he hears another voice—deep, gravelly, and _familiar._ It’s laughing alongside yours, a sound he almost doesn’t recognize. But then you’re both at the front door and he can hear you just fine.

“Thanks, Shizuo,” you say, and Izaya can hear the bashfulness in your voice. “I had a really nice time with you tonight.”

_You were supposed to be with family._

Had you lied to him?

“Sorry your parents were on vacation,” Shizuo replies, sounding a little uncertain. “I know you would’ve rather been with…”

“No, no, it’s fine. This was worth it. I know it’s a little early to be going out on dates on Christmas Eve, but… I really enjoyed myself. Thank you.”

Izaya hears the words through a static in his ears. You’d spent the night with _that_ trash? You’d _enjoyed_ yourself? _It was a date?_

He takes a deep breath, calms himself. Retaliation, to make him jealous, that’s all this is. If he’d known earlier, he would’ve put a stop to it, shown you that he cared earlier so you didn’t feel like you had to go to such drastic measures to—

“Can I kiss you?” Shizuo asks, like some kind of _pathetic_ _gentleman._

Izaya takes pleasure in the fact that he’s never had to ask you, and the fact that you are obviously going to reject him. Glee vibrates through him.

“Of course,” you say softly. Izaya goes stiff. Do you know he’s there, then? Going this far to make him jealous? That’s low, especially for you. “Thank—thank you for asking, but you don’t have to ask anymore…”

“That flea never asked you,” Shizuo says heatedly. “I’m not him.” You giggle.

Blood freezing in his veins, Izaya goes to the window and peeks out of the curtain. He has to see this to believe this, but there Shizuo is, leaning down to press his (repulsive, unworthy) lips against yours. What’s worse is when you shyly wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss.

Oh. Oh, you must have been so depressed when you left him. Izaya feels pity in his heart, and deep remorse. That you’ve gone this far in your depression after leaving him… he never should have stopped calling. Should have known that you were crying for help, all this time, and he had left you to suffer by yourself, enough that you had had to go to Shizuo, his enemy, just to feel connected to him.

Finally, you both pull away, red-faced and panting. “You should get inside,” Shizuo says gruffly. “It’s cold out here.”

“You could too…?” you offer, and Izaya’s heart breaks for how lonely you’ve been, how broken, that you’d give this scum the time of day. This really will be your perfect Christmas, to have your loneliness relieved, to know he still wants you, to feel that heartbreaking rejection soothed away by his presence. He’ll never let you go again; you’re a mess without him. He can see just how much, staring him in the eyes as it is now.

“Not tonight,” Shizuo says, and Izaya’s glad that this man knows, knows the claim that’s been staked on you and maybe isn’t so stupid as to not realize when he’s a replacement, just a rebound. You won’t be seeing him ever again after this, and he knows you’ll be happier for it. Being around Shizuo for just a facsimile of his presence?

You poor thing. You poor, broken thing.

Your face falls in disappointment. “You know, it’s okay to… Shizuo, we’re both consenting adults.”

“I don’t want to rush it, after what you’ve been through,” Shizuo says, and you smile, mega-watt, before hesitancy fills your expression.

“It’s not… it’s not my ex, is it?” you ask tentatively. “I know that he did a lot, but—”

“No,” Shizuo assures you vehemently. “It’s not that. It’s not _him_ at all.”

You grin, relieved. “Well, just so you know, I’m ready when you are. I’m not going to be pushy, either.”

“You’re good.” Shizuo leans down to peck you on your lips again. “Merry Christmas. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Great.” You press a kiss back to him. “Talk to you then.”

Shizuo starts walking away and you start to fiddle with your door. Izaya had left it unlocked for you, to make it easier, but it only seems to confuse you. Finally, you open the door and step inside.

He doesn’t wait for you to turn the lights on to see him. You’ve been suffering too long for him to deny you another second. He engulfs you in his arms and sweeps you into a kiss, to make up for time lost and to erase Shizuo’s mark on you.

You’re frozen in shock for only a moment before you scream and try to push him off. “Shh, shh, it’s me, sweetheart. I’m back, everything’s going to be okay now.”

At the sound of his voice, you freeze. “Izaya?” you whisper, your voice stiff with surprise.

He presses another kiss to your temple and breathes in your scent, purely you and with no trace of another man. It gives him a primal satisfaction.

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s me,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I waited to surprise you, but now I see I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry I left you on your own so long—I didn’t know it would have such a severe impact on you, that you would even—”

You shove at him wildly. “Get away from me!” you shriek. “I told you I didn’t want anything to do with you anymore! I broke up with you! I’m the happiest I’ve been since before I met you, so don’t ruin it with this bullshit! Get out of my house!”

You had managed to put some distance between yourself and him, and he frowns. “Those aren’t nice things to say, sweetheart,” he tells you, almost hurt by the harsh words. “I told you that you don’t have to lie to me. Not about anything. You don’t have to keep up this façade.”

Instead of capitulating, rushing into his arms, you just stare, wide-eyed for a long moment. “Izaya… Izaya, I haven’t spoken to you in two months,” you say like it’s paining you. “I left you. I should have so much earlier, but I thought… I thought I could help you.” You sigh. “I have a savior complex, I guess, but you, you need professional help. Really badly. I broke up with you for a reason, and I haven’t looked back once.” You look up at him, meeting his eyes, and say firmly, “I need you to leave or I’m calling the cops. Don’t come back or I’ll file a restraining order.”

Izaya feels something inside him harden. Oh, you’re so lost. Delusional. He’s going to have to remind you why you belong with him, why you loved him so much. He might even have Shinra check you out, make sure you’re stable enough to take care of yourself. If not, he’ll gladly take you in.

“Get out, Izaya,” you say again, a harsh command. You start reaching for your phone. “You have three seconds to leave before I call the cops.”

Izaya nixes the Shinra plan. You obviously need intensive care, and he knows he’s the only one who can provide you with what you need. Sending you off to an institution will only make this worse.

Still, he can’t just let you call the cops. You could get in trouble for a false crime report. He quickly strides towards you, and you relax for a moment. There you are, peeking through the façade.

He snatches the phone from your hand and you tense up all over again. “I’ll give this back when you can properly take care of yourself,” he tells you. You take a large step away but he catches you by your wrist.

“Izaya, give me my phone and _leave_ ,” you hiss, but now there’s a hint of fear in your voice. He tightens his grip on your wrist, pulling you to him. You fight and struggle the whole way, until he wraps his arms around you, holding you still. “What are you doing?” you demand, still falsely trying to get away. You shove him, but he only pulls you closer. “Izaya!” you cry, shoving more and more. “Let go of me! Let me go!”

Squeezing you to him, he presses a kiss to your hair. He’s always liked how weak you were against him; you’ve never been particularly strong and it’s pathetically easy to hold you still once he starts putting in effort. “I’m sorry,” he says again, because you obviously need to hear it. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m going to take care of you now, until you’re better. I promise I’ll never let you leave again. I can’t believe you’ve fallen so low…” The last is mostly to himself, but you hear it anyways.

“Izaya, no!” you cry, pulling away just enough to look up at him. He lets you. “Izaya, you need help! You need to leave me alone! I don’t want you here!”

“You’re sick,” he tells you gently. “All this time away from me has really messed you up, hasn’t it? Don’t worry, that won’t happen again.”

You stare at him, frozen. “No,” you say slowly. “No. Izaya, you’re delusional, we broke up, I don’t want you anymore! I haven’t wanted you in a long time! Please,” you say desperately, “please _leave!”_

Instead of responding to your delusional statements, he presses his lips to yours, licking the seam of your mouth and, when you try to twist away from him, gripping your jaw to force himself in.

You taste so good, so sweet, like you’ve never kissed another man at all. He feels something relax inside him, even as you’re fighting against him.

When he pulls away, you do something he hadn’t anticipated.

“Help!” you scream at the ceiling, thrashing against him. “Help! HELP!”

He places a hand over your beautiful mouth. “Don’t cause a scene. I don’t want them to take you away from me.”

Your yelling is incoherent, and Izaya realizes this isn’t going to go anywhere. You need too much help.

“I love you,” he tells you, trying to show as much of his adoration as he can through his gaze alone. He’ll reach you someday, but a sinking feeling in his stomach tells him it’s going to be a while. This is his punishment, he supposes, for not listening to his instincts.

You’re captivated by his gaze, and in that moment of distraction, he pinches a nerve in your neck and you collapse in his arms. Your face slackens in unconsciousness and he’s relieved to see your hate-filled gaze taken away.

He’s going to have his hands full with you for a long, long time.

* * *

 

You stir awake because of a crick in your neck. You’ve been sleeping in an odd position, or maybe you fell asleep on your couch after Shizuo left? You had been pretty tired, after all.

You wish you had woken up earlier, though. That dream with Izaya has terrified you out of your wits, even though you know that technically, you’re safe. He took you seriously when you told him to leave you alone. It’s been two months with no sign or word from him, and it’s weird that dreams like this are coming now. You had been too relieved from getting out of that toxic relationship to have any nightmares like this at all after you left him, but you suppose maybe this is payback. After six months of hell with him, you’re only a little surprised that he’d resurface in your mind once you were comfortable again.

Still, you’re shaken. It’s still dark out, but nonetheless, you reach for your phone to call Shizuo. He’s been nothing but supportive once you had gotten over your initial I-dated-your-nemesis hump and you know he’ll be able to comfort you like no one else can.

But when you move your hand, it jerks to a stop before you even reach the nightstand and there’s a quiet jingling as metal bites into your wrist. You freeze.

You move your other hand. It’s halted mid-movement by the same jingling, the same bite. Your heart seizes in your chest and you take a closer look at your surroundings.

It’s not that it’s dark outside, you realize in the pitch blackness. It’s that there’s _no window._

You test everythinhg out before letting yourself panic. Your legs are restrained similarly to your hands and you’ve been splayed out on a soft bed, but it’s nothing like the one you have a home. You do recognize it though.

It’s the one you’d stay on when you slept over at Izaya’s, after he had started playfully ignoring your ‘no’ and kept going until you forcefully demanded that he stop. He always made a joke out of it, during and after, while you wondered just what you had gotten yourself into and how to get out.

Oh god. Oh god. You feel like you’re going to shatter and you can’t breathe. You start fighting against the restraints, but all they do is jingle and bite, jingle and bite.

Finally, you accept that what you had dreamed had been real. You scream for help, even knowing that Izaya had his walls soundproofed long before you ever came into the picture. Someone _has_ to hear you, right? This can’t go on for any longer.

Someone does hear you, but it’s not a rescuer. The door opens, letting light into your old room, and Izaya saunters in. “I didn’t think you’d be awake this early,” he says with a pleased smile.

You stare at him, at how he shows no sign of realizing that what he’s doing is wrong, and you feel tears prick your eyes. “Izaya, you have to let me go,” you tell him as calmly, as gently as you can. “This is imprisonment. You’ll get into legal trouble for it. Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this if you do.”

Of course you’re going to tell someone about this. You’ll get him sent to jail, where maybe he’ll get the help he needs.

Or at least the wake-up call to stay away from you.

Izaya clucks his tongue, a disapproving frown on his face. “I’m helping you, sweetheart. You’ll see that soon enough, once you come back to your senses.”

You see his eyes run over your body and you suddenly notice the cold, the way your nipples tighten at the exposed air and feel of his gaze on them. He licks his lips, eyes focused as though he can see them.

Belatedly, you glance down and realize that you’re _naked_.

When Izaya starts advancing, you start screaming in earnest. “Please, Izaya, no! This isn’t the way! Please!” But, after shedding his shirt, he chooses to mount you, kneeling in between your forcefully spread legs and leaning down over you.

“I know you’ve forgotten, but I’m going to remind you how much I love you. Maybe then you’ll start remembering how much you love me, too.”

“Please,” you beg as he starts undoing his zipper. “Please, Izaya, no. You’re not—you’re not this kind of man. Please don’t do this.” He takes off his boxers and tears flood your eyes as you see how hard he is. “Please, Izaya!” It comes out on a sob.

“Shh, shh, calm down. I promise I’ll make you feel good. I always did before, didn’t I?”

Yes, he had. That’s part of what you’re dreading about this.

While you hold his gaze, you try to get through to him. “Izaya, you’re a better man than this. You’re not a rapist. You don’t—don’t—” Your voice stutters through a quiet sob, terror filling your every pore. “You don’t have to do this.” It comes out raggedly.

“I promise it’ll make sense eventually, but this isn’t rape. I’m just reminding you of how it used to be.”

You’re reminded of all the times he skirted the line of consent, pushing you just far enough to think you need to fight back, leave immediately, before retreating and playing it off as teasing. You’re reminded of his selfishness, even if he always pleasured you. You’re reminded that, in this circumstance, Izaya really might rape you and not think twice about it.

And if he did think twice, you’re not sure he’d care.

At your stunned silence, Izaya dips down and takes your breast into his mouth, not teasing but immediately getting to the point. You whine, trying to thrash away, but the chains restrict you and you’re stuck. He shushes you again before moving to the next breast, the least amount of time he’s ever spent trying to arouse you, and you can’t help your tears. You crumple into despair.

Izaya licks and kisses his way down your abdomen, eventually reaching your neatly trimmed thatch of curls. He breathes in heavily and you twitch, filled with revulsion. You can’t let him do this, you have to try.

“Please,” you beg, barely comprehensible through your sobs. “Please, Izaya…”

He places a hand on your hip to still your struggling. “I know, sweetheart, I know.” And, just as you realize that he took that plea the wrong way, he dips down and licks a long stripe up your slit.

You keen, more out of misery than pleasure, even though, as his attention to you never wavers, you feel a rush of heat flood between your thighs. Thrashing, trying to kick, you never make much progress and he keeps your hips pinned for what he used to call ‘fine dining.’ The very thought of that little joke makes you gag. It had never particularly amused you in the first place. Maybe in that first month, before his façade started to melt away.

You twitch a little as his nose brushes your clit and his tongue pierces your opening, lapping at your slick. Bucking, you try to displace him, but the stimulation is too much and a horrible moan escapes your lips. You try to hide it by continuing to beg him to stop, but he hears it all the same.

“See, isn’t that better?” he pants, wiping his face. Then he reaches down, gripping his cock, and starts stroking it. It’s purple at the tip, leaking precum, and you shudder at the sight.

“It’s not too late,” you try to convince him. “You can stop, you can stop—"

“But I’m not going to,” he replies playfully, as if you’re not crying and tied up and saying no repeatedly. As if this is all a game.

You feel his tip brush up against you and you put all your remaining energy into getting him away. He just grabs your interfering hands and pushes them down, caging you with his body.

“Remember,” he says as he aligns himself, “I love you.”

And then he forces himself inside you, a single, brutal thrust.

At that point, you have no choice but to give up. He’s already violated you, and you’re too tired to keep fighting him. You tried, you gave it your all. There was never really anything you could do; nothing was getting through to him. You just cry and regret ever getting involved with him in the first place.

He kisses you, silencing your sobs. You let him do what he wants now, even when he starts to target a spot you had commended him for finding so early on and makes your abdomen quiver and tighten. He uses and abuses you, wringing pleasure from you while swallowing any sounds you might have made. Finally, he starts thrusting in earnest instead of the leisurely, pleasurable way he had before, bringing you sharply to your climax just as he finds his.

Once you’ve both come down, he purposely cages you with his body, giving you the sick sense that he’s trying to cuddle you.

“Please,” you whisper brokenly. “Please, leave me alone.” You just want to be alone with your grief.

“That just tells me you need me to stay,” he says gently. He shifts to the side so he’s not caging you and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

You close your eyes, weeping silently. Eventually, you do fall asleep, and you dream of Shizuo coming to rescue you when you don’t answer his phone call, of Shizuo getting so angry at Izaya that he kills him. Of being safe again, and the warm hand stroking your hair is Shizuo gently waking you up after a long night of lovemaking.

Instead, just like he promised, Izaya the one stroking your hair and nothing has changed.

“I told you I’d be here,” he says. You whimper and try to pull away from him. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’ll remember soon, I swear.” You give out a strangled sob, pushing futilely against his chest, and he looks at you with soft, sad eyes.

“I guess it didn’t stick at all,” he says. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep reminding you until you remember.”

And then he presses his lips to yours again, hand finding your hip to pull you into him. You can feel that he’s already rock hard, as if he was expecting you to not ‘remember’ how much you love him.

_Nothing,_ you think as he starts rubbing himself against your clit. _There’s nothing to remember._

_I never loved you._


	8. Perfection [Chisaki Kai x Reader] NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a quirkless maid who knows her stuff. Chisaki's never had anyone clean his house to his standards before, and that makes you interesting, if nothing else.
> 
> Of course, it doesn't stop there. It never does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write something for some obscure fandom nobody cares about, but yunyu convinced me to not only buy Dynasty Warriors 8 but also to write another BNHA fic.
> 
> Tomura was the obvious choice at first but I didn't want to steal his thunder in my series softly, quietly. Check it out! It has some rape/non-con in there but it's also about rape recovery and is officially All Might/Reader/Aizawa. #shamelessselfpromotion
> 
> Anyways, then I wanted yandere!Aizawa but eventually decided on Chisaki. I've never written him before, so I hope I got him down right! Please let me know if I did, and where I could improve if I've gotten this totally wrong. It won't be rewritten in any case.
> 
> So, thank yunyu for this and go check out her Dynasty Warriors fics on here if you're into that fandom! I need it to be bigger! I need someone to save me from my obsession with Sima Shi! and that shall only be done by fic!

You were impeccable in everything you did.

He saw this from the first moment he tried your service. You were an independent maid, relying on your own marketing and networking skills to create long-lasting customers, who in turn would recommend you to others, and thus your business was always booming.

No other maid service could do what he asked. In the past, he had been able to keep his place clean with his own time, but as things grew more hectic with his plans, he soon found himself in the rather repulsive need to have someone clean his home for him. He had only ever hired quirkless maids, but the maid services charged extra for the ‘extracurricular’ activities offered. Money wasn’t the problem, though.

They all did _terrible jobs._

He could barely stand it. Each maid, and he had gone through several before finding you, had not recovered from her ‘assaults,’ always after leaving another client’s house. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone who had been in his apartment living after _dirtying it_.

But then you came along, recommended by a subordinate who was most likely dead at this point—he didn’t bother to keep up with the names of the smaller pawns—and when he returned home that night after you had cleaned, it felt as though he had cleaned the place himself. Not only that, but he had pulled up your files at the registrar’s office and confirmed again that you were quirkless. It was natural to be suspicious that you didn’t have a hidden cleaning quirk.

You didn’t. Whether by coincidence or providence, you used the same unscented cleaning supplies that he used himself as well.

That was what brought you on his radar. You were useful, didn’t so much as hint at the disgusting sexual activities that would only serve to dirty him—though he couldn’t deny that the occasional release with a professional who understood and obeyed his instructions was useful in controlling his baser urges—and relatively cheap. You clearly didn’t understand your own worth, but it wasn’t like he was about to inform you of it. That was your problem.

Inevitably—though he didn’t see it at first—things escalated. You had arrived a few minutes early, just as he was leaving. Before then, he had never seen you, only spoken to you on the phone. But just as he was opening the door to head out, having no interest in you so much as your cleaning skills, you were right standing right there, adjusting what appeared to be a high-end shower cap.

For a moment, he remembered just standing there, stunned at the sight of you. No, not of your beauty, though you had it from what he could see; beauty came a dime a dozen in all different flavors, and there was nothing particularly interesting about it.

It was what you wore. You were dressed in tight, conforming black spandex, and fully covered from neck to foot, where you wore rubber boots. You wore surgical-grade gloves and your hair was carefully contained in the shower cap. And most of all, you wore a surgical mask. Minus the hazmat suit, anyone else would have thought you were entering a contaminated area equal to a quarantined room.

He didn’t understand it, but knew immediately that you were his maid. After that moment of shock of running into each other, you bowed a little more lowly than was required and said, “Nice to meet you, Master. I will wait around the corner until you depart.” And then, as if it was no big deal to you, you rolled your (impeccably clean and covered with tight-fitting tarp to prevent contaminants) away from his door and left his space almost immediately.

If your clothing was any indication at all, you took cleanliness even more seriously than he did, even if only at work. But he doubted that it was only at work.

With the slightest of mental shakes, he left and put you out of his mind.

You didn’t stay out of it, though.

He found himself running into you more often, and he wouldn’t lie to himself and say it was accidental. You were apparently always a few minutes early, which meant he got to confirm you were perfectly suited up for every visit.

At the point that his curiosity about you overwhelmed him, he scheduled you while he had no business to attend to.

You were visibly surprised to see him lounging on his couch reading a book when you unlocked the other door. Immediately, you asked, “Did I get the time wrong? I thought you scheduled me for two, but you’re…”

Your lack of understanding annoyed him. “Just work around me.”

You said nothing else and went to do your job as you always did.

He watched you from the corner of his eyes when you were in view. You looked a little ruffled at his presence, but it only seemed to increase the vigor in which you cleaned. Usually he booked you for two hours twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays, but at the rate you were going, he doubted it would take you the whole two hours.

“Do you usually only need an hour and a half?” he asked as you finished his kitchen faster than even he usually did.

“Not usually,” you replied bluntly. “Your presence is making me nervous, so I’m trying to get out of your way as fast as I can.”

It was all said in a flat, unimpressed tone, no shame or blushing or stammering. There was no bullshit, no pandering, no flowery wording. You wasn’t clearly weren’t trying to make friends here, and he wondered if you were always like this.

If you acted this way with him, he felt comfortable assuming that this was your usual state, at least when uncomfortable.

He didn’t respond, but he made sure that he was present for as many as your future cleanings as possible. Maybe you would become comfortable around him and he could solve the puzzle you presented.

Spending time with you, such as it was, did not fix that. You discouraged conversation at any and every opportunity, barely skirting crossing the line into rudeness. Your cleanings slowly shortened in length, though didn’t lessen in quality, which meant less time in his house—less time with him. Even though you were still taking over an hour, he decided to punish you by only paying you for the exact time you were there, down to the calculated minute.

Then you came to work one day and you had red swelling on your cheek and your eye bruised purple.

Upon seeing your face—you hadn’t used any makeup to hide it and he attributed that to the dirty feeling foundation would have left on your skin despite showing the world the work of an overpowered backhand, just as he would in your shoes—he felt a black, roiling pit of anger in his stomach. It was unexpected.

“What happened?” he asked with no inflection.

You looked him straight in eyes and said, “A client yesterday decided that he was unhappy about being denied services that I don’t offer. Obviously, he’s no longer a client.”

With that succinct explanation, the unexpected anger was understood. That dirty, disgusting man had hurt her—touched her. He had tried to mar her purity, and until she healed, he had succeeded.

It occurred to him abruptly, in a way it never had before, that while you cleaned his house, you also cleaned others’ houses. He was sure you kept yourself clean, but that didn’t mean you were safe. You could be _sullied_. If whatever circumstance you had escaped under hadn’t occurred, he would have dirtied your insides, your _mind_.

You, a perfect specimen of the human race—yes, of course, no wonder he had been thinking about you so often, you were the epitome of his goals—were not safe from the dirtiness of this world.

For now, he could help.

“Come here,” he said, standing up from his customary spot on the couch.

You looked at him flatly. “I’m not looking for round two of escaping rape. I have a job to do, Master.”

You always called him that. It pleased him until he realized that once upon a time, you had called your attacker the same thing. That pond scum should never have been able to come within a mile radius of you.

“I have a healing quirk,” he told you. “Come here.”

You looked at him askance for a moment, scrutinizing him for any insincerity, and then said, “Only if you get off the couch for a while so I can clean it. You’re on it every time I’m here and it desperately needs cleaned.”

That wasn’t true. He cleaned it himself right after you left. Of course, he still docked the minutes he estimated you would have used to clean it, because he hated that you left so quickly.

Still, he wasn’t going to correct you. “Alright.”

You advanced warily until he could reach out far enough to touch the injured side of your face, removing his glove without, for once, the immediate shiver of disgust at having to touch someone else. Even when he told you to take off your mask, he didn’t feel any revulsion about sharing the same air as you.

Of course not, he thought. You were epitome of what humanity should be, would be again.

Removing the mask revealed a badly split lip. That black anger returned, though his expression never changed despite its presence. He healed you back to perfection, but found his hand lingering on your baby-soft skin. You had no idea he wasn’t still healing you, so you stood in place until he pulled away, before his touch became a caress.

As he peered at your perfect face, he realized: you needed to be protected at all costs.

And, of course, the only one who could do it properly was him.

With that thought in mind, he put on his jacket and shoes and left. You were coming back Thursday, and he needed to be prepared for it. The three days you would stay unprotected made him uneasy, but he couldn’t simply keep you here without the proper tools.

He paid you for the full two hours, even if you didn’t stay that long while he was gone, and without saying anything else, left the house.

* * *

 

You hated this client so much, you thought to yourself as the elevator rose to his floor. He was always trying to talk to you, never let you clean his couch except for the last time, and he had started paying you less, charging you by the minute, not your hourly rate. He had rectified that after your injury, but it wasn’t enough. You knew personally that your effectiveness had not dropped despite his presence, and perhaps he was now present to use your anxiety against you and save money, though that wasn’t proper etiquette.

You had thought about arguing with him, but he didn’t seem like the type to appreciate that and, more importantly, listen to you, so you kept your head down and accepted the dock. You made enough money as it was, but after you had seen the look on his face when he saw you hurt, you immediately knew that this was the last time you would clean his house. You were only coming today to inform him personally of your complaints and your resignation. It might be more comfortable to do by phone, but your anger at his treatment of you was enough to motivate you to confront him in person.

You unlocked his door and sauntered into the apartment with confidence you suddenly didn’t really feel but were surprised to find that he wasn’t on the couch as usual. You slumped with relief. Well, you had tried, and now that you realized the depth in which confronting him scared you, you decided a phone call was well as good as in-person.

Just as you turned to leave, you felt a body abruptly press against yours, a gloved hand cover your mouth, and a pinch to the nerve in your neck that you knew would knock you out in seconds.

And it did.

* * *

 

His apartment was clean as it had ever been, so Chisaki felt comfortable laying you out on the couch and stripping you of your clothing. He had bought better ones for you, more comfortable ones but also fit for your status of Perfection. Since you were never leaving here again, you would never be contaminated and could dress however you liked.

As your skin was revealed, he marveled at the softness of your breasts, the perfect size, the lack of scars on your body. He found a few, but they were easily removed. You had been unprotected all this time; he couldn’t fault you for what this bleak state of the world might have done to you.

He found out the color of your hair, which went perfectly with your eyes. Beauty was a dime a dozen, but perfection could only be found in you. He cleaned up your body of any other features he didn’t particularly care for, though not finding much. A couple moles, stretch marks from puberty, but as a whole… nothing important.

“Perfection,” he murmured to your unconscious form before taking you to your bath and bathing you. Now, there was only one thing left to do.

It was regrettable that you did have to be temporarily marred, but he had to claim you so that no other could take you away. But you were perfect; other would always try to take that from you. He would take it from you first, just a little piece, and you could share just a little of your perfection with him.

He laid you out on his bed, leaving your ankles free but zip-tying your wrists after disinfecting the ties themselves. All he had to do was wait for you to wake up now.

* * *

 

You came to consciousness slowly, your mind sluggishly moving until you recalled your last memory. No, _no._

But you knew better than to let on that you were awake before assessing your situation. Lightly, you flexed your ankles and wrists. Your hands were tied together in front of you, though not seemingly to anything external. Your ankles were free, though, and that had you wondering. Certainly both were necessary in keeping someone captive, or if nothing else, the feet needed to be restrained.

Next you assessed where you were. It was doubtful where ‘Master’—or perhaps a burglar—would keep you in their own home. You _were_ on a bed, though. The freedom of leg movement suddenly made a whole lot more sense and your felt your heart start pounding in your chest harder than before.

The last thing you noticed was that you were naked, and couldn’t help the tears that flooded your eyes. You blinked to hold them back, to hide them.

“Good evening,” came the familiar voice of ‘Master.’

“Please don’t,” you whispered hoarsely, a lump of fear clogging your throat. “Please don’t do this.” You had saved yourself for marriage, not for a rapist. It was why Torune-san was being charged with assault—though he’d get off scot-free if you never showed up for the trial.

A hand caressed your clean, hairless calf. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he told you firmly, like rape wasn’t the worst kind of violation.

“So you’re a nice rapist, that’s great. But you’re not my husband and that’s who I’m saving it for,” you spat like venom.

“We can be married,” he said, stroking higher up your leg. You tried to move away but he gripped you painfully in place. There was power in that hand, and you thought to yourself now that his quirk couldn’t _just_ be healing.

“You’re hurting me right now,” you hissed through clenched teeth.

“I promise I’ll heal you after.”

Without warning, you choked on a sob. “Please, please don’t do this!” you begged desperately, though staying still. You didn’t want to give him any reason to incapacitate you further. “I don’t what you want from me, but it doesn’t have to be this!”

“Yes, it does,” he said. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”

“Then why are you doing it?” you demanded. “Is someone making you? You don’t have to listen to them! Tell them I escaped, or that—”

“I have you claim you,” Chisaki said—wasn’t that his actual name?—in a voice raised just enough to scare you, implications of what he was saying not even included.

“I’m not property,” you protested weakly.

“No, you’re not. You’re Perfection.”

A sudden understanding came to you. This man was crazy, delusional, insane. He was obsessed with you. And you weren’t getting out of this unscathed.

You started to thrash. If this was going to happen, you were going to wear your bruises with pride, pride that you didn’t sit back and let it happen, that you fought it with all your might. You kicked at him and he didn’t so much as flinch as he shifted and crawled up your body. You bucked and twisted inelegantly, using your legs to do as much damage as possible.

He touched your legs, one on each thigh, and you felt something _shift_. Suddenly, your legs were useless to you, not listening to your commands at all, weak and heavy. You could still feel them and sensation, the way Chisaki was raising them around his waist and the feel of his hands, strangely ungloved; they just wouldn’t move.

“What did you do to me?” you whispered in terror.

“I cut your hamstrings,” he told you. At your look of confusion and horror, he smiled a cold smile. “It’s part of my quirk. Like I said, I’ll heal you after.”

You began to wail, realizing that there was literally nothing you could do. In a last ditch effort, your raised your arms and tried to swing them at him, but he just caught your wrists.

“I can do the same to your arms,” he said. And then he ducked so that your arms were around his neck, severing something along the way that turned them limp and compliant, making it look like the embrace it wasn’t.

It was only as he was pressing his lips to yours, chaste and closed together, that you decided you just had to endure. Nothing was going to be done now. You were functionally nothing more than a torso and head now, and you didn’t want to risk your neck to whatever his quirk was.

You felt his hand grip and slide up the backs of your thighs, pushing your hips closer together. You could feel his erection and wondered if it was really as intimidating as it felt. You hoped not. His lips continually caressed yours, but his tongue never prodded out. For that you were relieved, you supposed, but it still didn’t—

He slowly pulled away, letting your arms fall limply to your lap and releasing your useless legs. Then he started undressing and you closed your eyes, tears falling silently as your chest heaved with anticipated grief.

Once he was fully naked, he slid back between your legs, put your arms around his neck once more, and cradled your thighs around his hips.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he promised. “This isn’t going to be one-way.”

You didn’t respond, crying quietly.

He took one last moment to put on a lubricated condom, perhaps to make up for what you lacked—you just appreciated that there was little chance of pregnancy now—before he widened your legs a little more, aligned himself, and then started pushing his way in.

The lubrication didn’t help much, and he was as big as you had felt earlier. You groaned at the foreign stretch, the sense of too-fullness, and shrieked when he finally plunged home painfully.

He took no time to comfort you, only pressing his lips chastely against yours again as he picked up movement.

You were glad he had lied about your pleasure. You didn’t want to enjoy this and he certainly wasn’t making any effort at it, just holding your hips in place and thrusting in and out. He didn’t move his mouth or hands to your breasts, paid little attention to your clit, and all you focused on was the growing wetness that your helpless body was providing, that was easing the pain as you adjusted.

Eventually, you adjusted to the rote movement, waiting for him to come and be done. You felt the numbness from the act and embraced it. It was only when his lips moved to trace your neck, your collarbone, did you think maybe he hadn’t lied and experienced a new kind of pain at the realization.

He nipped at your puckered nipple—from pain, not arousal—but you undeniably felt a clench in your lower abdomen. Then he sucked the peak into his mouth, his tongue moving lazily, without much pressure, and there was a flush of wetness.

He moaned into your breast and started thrusting faster.

“Please,” you tried. “I don’t want to feel it—”

He moved to your other breast, nipping harder than before, and your voice was cut off by your hitched breath.

Slowly increasing his pace, he angled his thrusts in a different way that had your abdominal muscles flexing and wetness slicking your thighs. You felt his hand move downward, towards your clitoris, and froze. “Please, no…”

But he ignored you again, parting your lower lips and gently flicking against the bud.

You outright gasped, and then he put real pressure on it, pleasure into pain. You bucked your hips to escape him, thighs held tight against him, and cried, “Stop! Stop!”

He didn’t, and you realized that by moving your hips this way to escape the pain, he was forcing you to buck into him like this was consensual.

“I’ll do it myself,” you whimpered. “I’ll do it, please stop!”

He released your clit and you kept moving your hips against his. You didn’t think you’d ever been more miserable in your life as he then resumed flicking that horrible bud.

It felt like forever, but eventually the tightness building in your abdomen was too much, between his mouth on your breasts and the angled thrusts and the touch against your clit. You started spasming, your bucking erratic now, and he increased his pace as you exploded with pleasure, tears streaming down your face as you gave him what he wanted. As soon as you had come down he upped the pace further until his movements stuttered and finally stilled.

He pulled the condom off and got up to throw it away. When he left the room, you heaved a breath and accepted that while you had been raped, at least it was over.

Ten minutes later he returned with a new condom.

“I thought you said you didn’t want this either,” you said through clenched teeth as he put the new one on.

“I thought I just needed a little of your Perfection,” he told you, hauling your legs back up around his hips. He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours and staring deep into your eyes with his haunting gold irises. He adjusted you a little and forced his way in again. “But I need all of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! ❤️


	9. Control (Yami Bakura/Reader/Ryou Bakura) NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryou can't help loving you. It's not like he can control his emotions, or the way his gaze constantly follows you, or his wish for you to be more than his best friend.
> 
> He just wishes that he hadn't draw the spirit's attention to you, because he can't control him, either, and the spirit's intentions are so much worse than simply asking you to be his girlfriend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it underage if they're both technically underage? I mean, I'm tagging it that way anyways, and given a few canonical details that I've smudged (with a giant eraser) and also the fact that, well, Yami Bakura is _literally_ ancient, I'm thinking it's appropriate. Then again, they're in senior year, but tbh I don't really consider anybody of age unless they've at least graduated high school. (And if you're offended by that, you should not be reading this story.)
> 
> It's been a long time since I read the manga, and even longer since I watched the show (that doesn't even count, I was like _eight_ ) so I decided to kind of make this mildly AU? You'll see what I mean. It's already AU just based on the premise, and the fact that I'm basically ignoring everything plot related for the sake of this story, but I've messed around with the relationship between Ryou and Yami Bakura and their abilities to interact with each other. Or, well, how Yami Bakura interacts with Ryou.
> 
> Anyways, it'll all be explained in the story. Average yandere stuff here. Ryou is NOT the aggressor here. My pure child would never rape ANYBODY and be ready to catch these hands if you disagree!

_She’s a pretty thing, don’t you think?_

Ryou hastily averted his eyes from you. You sat in front and to the left of him in homeroom, giving him the ability to watch you when no one else was paying attention. He tried not to do it too often, not only because he didn’t want to draw your attention but also because no one could ever, _ever_ know about his crush on you.

He already knew that you didn’t like him in that way. As much as he considered you his best friend, and you did the same for him, he had had listened to you many a night talking about how you had a crush on Yugi. You didn’t run in the same circles he did, having been at Domino High since the beginning and making your own friends, and once he had befriended Yugi and his group—long after he befriended you—and invited you to join them for a mini Duel Monsters tournament between friends, you had come over to his apartment that night love-stricken. Even though you knew Yugi was crushing on Anzu, and Anzu was crushing on some mysterious older guy that you had never met (oh, the irony), you had never been able to shake it. It had been three years and you were all seniors.

Ryou had regretted ever introducing you to his group of friends, because the moment you declared that Yugi was the kindest, sweetest boy you had ever met, even though you knew you would never be with him because his heart was elsewhere, Ryou had realized that he was in love with you and you would never return those feelings.

Especially not with the spirit of the ring in his way. Maybe, if someday he could get rid of the thing, he could try to pursue you.

But only then, because the spirit of the ring was just as interested in you as he was, and he knew that if his counterpart had his way, you wouldn’t have a choice whether to be with him or not.

Sometimes, when Ryou was particularly heartsick, his dark half would try to entice him to action, forcing his own twisted images and words about how good you would feel writhing beneath him, how helpless you would be to stop his advances with your hands tied to the bed post, how he would pull pleasure from your body regardless of your consent. Ryou was a virgin, but the spirit was not, and he would mix in his remembered sensations with his own desire for you.

Ryou would never admit it to anyone, but sometimes, the sensations, the words, even the images put forth would force him to lie in bed at night, panting as he stroked himself to climax, moaning your name. It was his greatest shame, especially when the spirit had imagined himself taking you by force and he still got off, and in that shame, he had vomited after the pleasure, disgusted that he could even be aroused by such a thing.

But the spirit didn’t care; they were his fantasies, and Ryou was helpless to stop him from having them.

There were other images, too, sometimes. Images of you belonging to _him,_ to Ryou, not the spirit. You loving him back as strongly as he loved you; a ring on your hand; your blinding, adoring smile aimed at him instead of Yugi; and thoughts of the spirit gone and being able to be with you instead of worrying that, at any moment, the spirit would take over him and ruin everything.

Speaking of which, the spirit hadn’t taken over in a while. Ryou sometimes wondered privately why that was, but he never got an answer. He could only assume that the spirit was biding his time. For what, Ryou had no idea, but he was grateful for it. For now, he could spend time with you without interruption, though he knew his counterpart was always watching.

Waiting. For something. Ryou didn’t want to speculate what.

Class ended with the ring of a bell, and he was immediately torn out of his thoughts and started hastily packing up his bag. You both lived in the same apartment building and walked home together, he alone and you with your overworked, absentee mother. He always went over to your house, not only because his place was sparsely furnished and empty of life when he wasn’t home, but also because if there was the chance your mother would ever come home and interrupt—unlikely, but possible—the spirit would never risk doing what he wanted with you.

He had unwittingly warned Ryou of what would happen the moment you were alone with him in their apartment. All of his fantasies took place in their apartment. Ryou wasn’t sure if the spirit realized it, but he read between the lines enough to know not to ever be caught alone with you in that secluded place.

The fantasies lately had been getting darker, more violent, more frightening, and though Ryou thankfully felt nothing but disgust, the spirit had still been pushing the images forward. Thoughts of possessing you, of you going missing, locked away forever in his bedroom, of never letting you leave. Of making sure the world thought you dead while you suffered under the spirit’s will.

If the spirit took over in his ideal fantasy, Ryou wasn’t sure when he would gain back control. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to warn you, to free you. The spirit was _obsessed._

Not unlike Ryou himself, but he would rather suffer in silence than hurt you in any way.

_You fool,_ the spirit hissed in response to that thought. _You have to take what is yours if you ever want to have anything._

Ryou knew that the spirit was the one who would do the taking, not him, and he refused to let that happen. It was why he made sure that he concentrated as much as he could on not letting the ring take over. Ultimately, it wasn’t his choice, but sometimes he could fight back if the urge was strong enough, and sometimes the spirit would decide not to bother if it was too much of a struggle.

“Hey, daydreamer!” you called at the front of the classroom, waiting by the door. It was your nickname for him ever since the beginning, as he was always stuck in his own head, fighting against the spirit. Of course, you just thought he daydreamed. “Hurry up! We’re getting dango!”

Knowing that was your favorite dessert, he quickly made his way to you and joined you as you walked out the door.

You both walked in companionable silence until you reached the dango stall on the way back to your apartments. After ordering and receiving your food, Ryou couldn’t help but ask, “You’ve been quiet. Where’s my chatterbox?” Just as he was your daydreamer, you were his chatterbox.

You sighed, took a quick bite, and chewed. It was then he noticed that you were wringing your hands around the dango stick, and he knew you were nervous for some reason.

Even though he dared not to hope, his heart fluttered dangerously at your nerves. Maybe you were over…

No. That couldn’t be the case.

He gave you your silence, and finally you spoke. “I… I talked to Anzu. Heart-to-heart. She said, well…”

Ryou had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. You were never so nervous about anything.

“What did she say?” he asked kindly, hiding what he felt was imminent heartbreak.

“Well… that she told Yugi the truth when he asked her if there would be anything between them someday. Hypothetically speaking. You know that I told her about my crush. She said that she would never feel the same way about Yugi… and that she had fallen in love with someone else. Someone not as unattainable as the older guy she liked, she said. And that Yugi wasn’t even sad about it, not really, just kind of resigned.”

Ryou didn’t want to hear any more, but you were his best friend, and he was your confidant, and he shoved down his feelings of heartbreak, deep where he would hopefully someday forget about them.

_Idiot!_ the spirit bellowed. _Now is the time! If you don’t tell her, she’ll be—_

Ryou slammed the lid shut on the spirit’s words and continued to listen to you. He could feel his counterpart’s rage, though, and the intensity of it frightened him. The spirit was never this angry except when it came to the pharaoh, and he didn’t count Yugi as the pharaoh these days. He clenched his fists together and focused on you.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” you went on. “Anzu doesn’t want it spreading around until Yugi acts on it… but he asked her about me. If I was still single. If maybe, if she was okay with it, if he could start spending time with me one-on-one. So we could get to know each other, see if there’s something… there.”

And there was that blinding, adoring smile. It was not aimed at him.

He felt his heart shatter, and he wished he had told you before you met Yugi, wished that he had realized his feelings before then, when he might have had a chance.

But none of that came out. “I’m happy for you, chatterbox,” he said with a smile. And he was happy for you, truly, but it was tainted with his own pain. “So what are you going to do now?”

You grinned mischievously. “I’m going to ask him out for dango.”

His smile dropped.

You flapped your hand at him. “No, no, not here! This is our special spot! I would never bring anyone else here except you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still love dango.” You winked playfully.

The reassurance didn’t make him feel any better, only made him hurt more because you so obviously cared about him, treasured him—but as a friend. Nothing more.

Suddenly, he couldn’t manage to be around you right then. He needed to be alone; he needed to nurse his broken heart and lick his wounds, at least until tomorrow, when he would go back to being your supportive friend forevermore. At least he knew that even when you got together with Yugi, he would always be there, your best friend. Even if it was going to kill him inside.

“Do you mind if we head home?” he asked. “The dango isn’t sitting well with me. I’m not feeling too well.”

Immediately, your eyes rounded with concern. “Oh, of course!” You narrowed your eyes at the dango shop. “The quality of their food better not be dropping…”

He chuckled as best he could. “I’m sure it’s just me.”

Finishing off the last of your dango, you took his barely-touched stick and threw them both in the trash can. “Come on, let’s go home. I’ll make you some chicken noodle soup and matcha, that should settle your stomach.”

“Oh no, that’s not necess—”

“Hush,” you scolded. “You’re my best friend. I’m not going to leave you alone when you’re not feeling well.”

He couldn’t manage to say no to you. He never could. But at that moment, he really wished that you would just leave him be. It wasn’t going to get better with you constantly around him.

The rest of the walk home was uneventful, you only talking about trivial things and trying to distract him from his non-existent stomachache. At one point, you grew so concerned that you took his hand, squeezing gently to comfort him, and the one-sided sparks that shot up his arm went straight to his abdomen. It only made him feel sick, genuinely now.

You walked him all the way up to the top floor where his apartment was, instead of parting ways on the second, where you lived. He had tried to insist again that it wasn’t necessary, but you were really concerned now.

“Keys,” you commanded, still holding his hand.

He froze. No, you couldn’t come inside. “Really, it’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be fine from here.”

You frowned. “Are you sure? You look really pale.”

“I’m sure,” he said. “It’s a mess in there, anyways.” A total lie, but you would never know the difference.

“Well, okay,” you said doubtfully. “But I’m going to come by later with some soup. Make sure you take something to settle your stomach.”

He smiled at you tiredly. “I will.”

You nodded in acquiescence. “Take care of yourself, Ryou. Let me know if you’re going to miss school tomorrow so I can get you copies of my notes.”

You were just starting to release his hand when Ryou felt a familiar dizziness, a darkening around the edges of his vision.

_Well done,_ the spirit cooed. _Even if she did all the work for you._

Ryou clutched his head, doubled over. “No, no, no—”

The spirit was taunting him as he slowly pushed Ryou back. _I’m going to enjoy this. Don’t worry, you can watch._

“Ryou? Ryou! Are you okay?”

Involuntarily, his grip tightened, and Ryou realized that this was exactly what the spirit had been waiting for. He was trapped in his own mind, although the spirit made sure the connection was open enough that he could observe everything happening.

_I’ll show you how it’s done_ , the spirit said mockingly. _I might even let you have a turn. Ha!_

On the outside, Ryou felt his body straighten up and lean against the door jam, affecting weakness.

“No,” he moaned, still gripping his head. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m not… I’m not…”

“Keys,” you now demanded. “You should have told me it was this bad. No way I’m letting you stay here on your own. If you get any worse, I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

He felt himself hand you the keys, the spirit keeping his head bowed and body curled so you wouldn’t notice any changes. You unlocked the door and wrapped your arm around his shoulders, supporting him as you walked through the door.

“Go lie down,” you said, turning your back on him as you headed toward the kitchen. “I’m going to get you some water.”

_No! No! Don’t turn your back!_ His scream went unheard, but he could feel the spirit’s amusement at the attempt.

The door was shut and locked behind him, and the spirit flexed his fingers, relishing in the power of his control.

“You know,” he said deviously, “I think I’m feeling much better already.”

Ryou hoped you would catch on the change in personality immediately, the deepened voice, the sharpening of his eyes as the spirit manifested himself in his body.

_Run! Run! Please, chatterbox, RUN!_

“Nonsense,” you said, and Ryou despaired at your stubborn ignorance in the face of concern for him. “Stop playing games and go lie down.” You started sifting through cabinets to find where his cups were.

He saw more than felt the spirit approach you from behind while you were distracted. When he was close enough, he said, “Only if you join me.” His arm roughly snaked around your waist and his slammed a palm over your mouth before you could even think to protest.

When his grip tightened and you started to fight back—you had taken self-defense lessons at some point in your life, though Ryou didn’t know how up to date you were—jabbing your elbow into the spirit’s side and then jamming your heal into his instep—the spirit cackled, constricting you further. You let out a muffled scream.

“What a little lioness,” the spirit said darkly. “I can’t wait to _tame you._ ”

To Ryou’s never ending horror, the spirit then slammed your head into the cabinet, once, twice, before you fell limp in his arms.

_Please,_ he begged. _Don’t hurt her._

“Shut up,” the spirit replied aloud, but with amusement, not irritation. “I’m going to show you how to take what’s yours and you’re going to have a front row seat.” Ryou felt the malice between their connection. “But she isn’t yours now, is she? She’s _mine._ ” He shrugged carelessly. “Better luck next time.”

Ryou felt himself dragging you through the apartment and then tossing you on the bed. You were limp like a doll as the spirit crawled over you, starting to undo the buttons of your school uniform. He struggled and struggled and struggled to take back control, to stop this from happening. He had to help you; he couldn’t let you get hurt.

The spirit shoved Ryou down further, forcing him to be an unwilling participant as he impatiently ripped your shirt open. As soon as you were bare, the spirit cupped your breasts, weighing them in each hand. Ryou could feel the spirit’s satisfaction and realized that he felt the very same satisfaction himself as your bra was undone and your chest was bared to their perusal. Just as the spirit grew aroused, so did Ryou. He couldn’t help but turn away from the atrocity, lest he damn himself even further.

And then he heard you groan.

* * *

 

Your head was pounding as you came back to consciousness. It took a few moments to adjust to the pain before you realized that there were other sensations: skin on skin, your breasts being touched intimately.

Memories came rushing back, of Ryou violently attacking you. “What the…” you hissed, struggling to open your eyes, but when you did, all you could see was a bright white head of hair above you, pale skin almost glowing, and sharp, lustful brown gaze in the dim lighting. “Ryou!” you gasped, immediately pushing away. “What the fuck—”

“Ryou isn’t home, sweetling,” a voice that most definitely didn’t belong to your best friend said.

“Who the fuck are you?” you demanded, shoving him off. You were stronger than Ryou; the boy was too thin, like he didn’t feed himself properly even though you knew he did—you made _sure_ he did. He had never been as strong as you, though.

The thought that Ryou had a much stronger, more violent sibling occurred to you then, because the man—and he was undoubtedly a man, unlike Ryou—didn’t even budge, whereas you knew that with the strength you had used you could have sent Ryou toppling over. Instead, the man just gripped your wrists and wrenched them over your head, causing you to cry out at the strain.

“You may call me Master, sweetling,” he said, his eyes piercing yours with dark intensity like you had never experienced before. “And don’t you forget it.” A vicious smirk twisted his face.

You found yourself suddenly, and quite explicably, afraid. Your chest was bare, uniform splayed open and bra mysteriously gone. Your skirt and knee-high socks were very little protection, and today had been the one day that you had forgone shorts beneath the indecently short piece of fabric.

“Please,” you begged. “Please don’t hurt me.” You hoped the distraction worked, because meanwhile, you were shifting your leg into the right position so you could knee him right in the family jewels.

“While your begging is most pleasing,” he said, leaning down too close your face and causing you to recoil into the mattress, “don’t think you can trick me.”

And with a quick movement, he dislodged your legs, settled between your thighs, and pressed a knee straight up against your groin.

The movement, and the sudden helplessness, shot a thrill of terror down your spine. “No!” you shrieked, and all calculation fled your mind as you thrashed ineffectively. “Let me go! Let me go! Ryou, _help_!”

“He’s not coming, sweetling,” the man said, smiling a razor sharp smile. “But he’s watching.” A thoughtful pause. “And I think he’s rather enjoying it, too.”

You jerked this way and that, fighting with everything you had.

But when you tried to buck him off, he ground his knee against you and couldn’t help the shudder of pleasure at the sudden pressure on your clit. You stilled completely, horrified, and he chuckled.

The man shifted his grip to encompass both your hands and then tenderly brushed a strand of your disheveled hair away. “I do so love blushing virgins,” he murmured wickedly. “But especially you.”

Tears threatened your eyes and you blinked them away. “You’re not going to get away with this,” you said bravely, though you didn’t feel brave at all.

“We’ll see about that.” His overwhelming confidence made your stomach knot with a feeling of impending doom.

But what pushed you over the edge was when he began to grind against you, his knee forcing delicious, hated pleasure that had your abdomen clenching and you gritting your teeth. After a few long moments, he finally removed his knee, and you realized in that instant that he was wearing the exact same uniform as Ryou had been. You knew this man didn’t go to school with you, though. How could he be wearing that clothing?

He stared down at his knee and licked his lips. “Look how wet you are for me,” he taunted, shoving his knee forward so you had no choice but to see the considerable damp patch where he had been rubbing you.

You swallowed hard and tried to reply calmly, “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s not for you. This is still rape.”

He gave a Cheshire smile. “Yes, but it’s rape you’re going to _enjoy_. With _me._ ”

You had to force down the aching lump in your throat, focusing on not crying and giving him the satisfaction of seeing how afraid you were. You continued to blink back tears, choking down sobs, hoping he wouldn’t notice your distress.

But he did, like he had a sixth sense for this kind of thing. He gently traced a fingertip down your cheek, as if following a tear track. “Don’t hold back on my account,” he said in a similarly gentle but now mocking voice, but he looked pleased. Pleased at your pain or pleased that you were holding it in, you had no way of knowing.

The man settled back, forcing you to follow him. You thrashed, but he held your wrists tight as he started to undo his belt buckle. He was shifting out of his clothes, ripping the uniform top off carelessly, tearing the pants at the seams to get out of them, and while he was at it, ripped through your panties and skirt.

And suddenly, divested of clothing, you froze. You didn’t know why you had stopped fighting back, but your whole body was like an ice sculpture, cold and unmoving. It was as if the fear had overwhelmed you, and you were paralyzed into inaction.

And then, almost too late, you realized you could scream for help. Why hadn’t you done that earlier? Why were you frozen, unable to get a sound out? Why—

When the man shoved you down into the mattress, the only clothing between the two of you your knee-high socks, it unfroze you.

You screamed bloody murder.

Almost as if he had been expecting it, he forced his lips on yours, tongue immediately ravaging your mouth as he forced your jaw to stay open with fingers on pressure points. You felt him release your arms and you immediately shoved at him, but just like before, you couldn’t get him to budge. You rained down hits and punches, but he was unmoving, pinning your body down with his not-inconsiderable weight.

No, he wasn’t unmoving, you realized. The tip of something hard and velvety pressed against your aching opening and then slid up, running over your clit. You tensed, freezing again at that unwanted pleasure, and he finally pulled away from your mouth but not before covering your lips with his hand.

He was grinning viciously, still forcing his cock against your clit. “You’re so wet, sweetling,” he said. He dipped the tip of his cock into your entrance and the brief pain at the intrusion had you flinching away. “And so _tight._ ”

“Please,” you tried to say past his hand, but it came out muffled. There was pressure at your wet but untried opening. “Please stop this!” you screamed desperately, still muffled.

“Sorry, I can’t understand what you’re saying,” he teased. “Are you saying ‘yes, please take me’? Because that’s what your body is telling me. You women with your mixed signals.” The mocking exasperation mixed with a chuckle brought you to your breaking point.

Then, with no warning at all, he forced himself all the way inside you. You choked on what would have been a cry of pain, paralyzed by the searing agony inside you.

He shivered and moaned. “Oh, _sweetling…_ ”

Trembling, the tears finally escaped. Hands useless, you clenched your fists into the covers and tried to steady yourself. A small part of you insisted this couldn’t be happening, that this all had to be a nightmare. But then why was the pain so real?

Before you could so much as adjust, he started to pull out. He had almost entirely left you before plunging back in again, jamming into you and bottoming out. You cried out again, clenching those covers so tightly your fingers ached. He continued the same slow, brutal pace until you were sobbing incoherently, twisting this way and that to try to escape his ruthless pounding.

Then he gripped your hips and started slamming into you, hard and fast, disregarding your pleas for mercy. When his eyes weren’t closed in bliss, they were watching your breasts bounce from the rough pace. Not letting up the pace, he leaned down to latch onto one of your nipples and sucked hard.

The jolt of pleasure barely penetrated the haze of pain, but penetrate it did. You moaned helplessly and closed your eyes, trying to picture being anywhere else, trying to wait him out until he was done. Safe place, safe place…

A sudden slap made your eyes open wide. With a dark, grotesque look on his face, he snarled, “Look at me. _Watch._ This is your master dominating you.”

The danger in his voice compelled you to listen, and you stared at him silently as he abused your body, tears flowing without sound. The sight was unbearable as he sucked and bit at you, covering you with purple and blue bruises and stinging teeth marks.

Before you could even appreciate that you weren’t going to enjoy this, at least, he slowed and changed the angle of his thrusts. It took a moment as your body accepted the lack of pain before you suddenly felt a pang in your lower abdomen that had your walls clenching in an unfamiliar way around him.

He groaned and began to pick up the pace, keeping the same angle, and you felt your blood heat and muscles that you knew you had but didn’t recognize undulating around him. Something like physical anticipation tightened in your stomach and it was then that you realized what you were feeling: this was pleasure, arousal. You hadn’t realized it immediately because you had never expected to feel it, not like this, not against your will. He had said you would enjoy it, but it wasn’t as though you had _believed_ him.

A ragged moan escaped your lips when he reached down and began to rub circles around your clit. Stiffening at the audible evidence of your enjoyment, you were forced to listen in horrible clarity when he said, “See? It’s not so bad belonging to me, is it?” Laughter mixed with a groan followed as he directly hit a spot in you that had you seeing stars. Your g-spot—he’d found it.

Your tears dried up as he forced more pleasure out of your body, the tight snapping turning into rolling thrusts, forcing you to feel as much of him as possible with every movement. You could feel your arousal reaching a crescendo, and you begged him to stop. “Please…” Your voice was a harsh, raw whisper.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he replied, panting, and before you could realize he assumed you were begging for the opposite, his pace returned to its eager slamming, but unlike before, it didn’t hurt.

No, it didn’t hurt at all. A few avid strokes and you squeezed your eyes shut as you came, white exploding behind your eyelids and tears freely flowing again.

He kept going through your aftershocks, long enough that it started to hurt from the overstimulation and you whimpered, weakly trying to tug away from him. Finally, his pace started to stagger. You didn’t know much about sex outside of theory and necessary education, but the intensity of his thrusts and the jerky movements made you hope that he was almost done. And you were right: with few more brutal thrusts, he stuttered and stilled inside you. You felt warmth leak out between your legs, sticky and thick, and you finally felt safe enough to relax. He was done. It was over.

“Did I say you could look away?” he hissed, displeasure clear in his tone, and you immediately opened your eyes and looked at him, blurry though he was through your tears.

He pulled out and you gasped in pain, feeling gaping and raw. Ravaged. You lay still, very still, hoping he would go away now.

Instead, he gripped your throat and lifted you up, gurgling, to look at him. His sharp eyes were narrowed angrily. “Next time, I expect you to participate.”

_How?_ you wanted to ask, but you were overwhelmed with the thought that there would be a next time. There would not _be_ a next time. Ryou was going to come back from wherever he was—you refused to believe the man’s words about your best friend watching and enjoying it—and he was going to get you out of here. He was going to save you. Maybe he was too late to save you from this, but certainly he would make sure you got home safe, that you could report to the police, that you would be free of this man.

The man released you and you fell back limply. You hurt so much.

Then your attacker was laughing. “Can you hear him? He’s so distraught, looking at you like this. If he had just acted on his feelings, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way.”

He wasn’t making any sense. You couldn’t hear anyone or anything but him and your own harsh, ragged breathing.

“Where’s…” Your voice cracked, hoarse from the brief choking. You cleared your throat painfully. “Where’s Ryou?”

“He’s coming in a minute,” the man said deviously. “But first, we have to make sure he’s not going to get any _ideas_.”

You watched him as he smiled sharply, his gaze in the middle distance, and then got up from the bed stark naked. You wanted to run for the door, and you did try to get up, but you could barely shift onto your rear before electric jolts of pain shot up your abdomen and between your thighs. You fell back onto the mattress and started crying again, softly, so as to not draw attention. You would just have to wait for Ryou.

But it was not Ryou who returned. It was still the man, and he zip-tied your wrists and ankles together and to the bedpost. You gave a token struggle, but you knew Ryou would be here any minute and with the clip of some scissors, you could be free.

“We’ll work on better accommodations soon,” the man assured.

You stared at him blankly and he frowned.

“Say ‘yes, Master’,” he ordered.

Ryou would be here soon. There was no reason to anger the man further. “Yes, Master,” you mumbled. You couldn’t be any more humiliated than you already had been.

The necklace around the man’s neck glowed, taking you by surprise. You hadn’t noticed it the entire time due to the dim lighting—growing dimmer by the moment as the sun set—but it was there, with the Eye of Horus in the center of a pyramid that attached to a ring and was decorated with five slender, dangling cones.

And right before your eyes, you saw the man’s muscles fade, his eyes grow soft and round, lose a few inches, all the sharp angles of an adult soften into the face of your best friend. Shocked, you could say nothing. What had you just seen?

Ryou, naked but for the necklace around his neck, threw himself prostrate on the floor in front of you, the lowest bow possible, his forehead touching the carpet as he sobbed, “ _I’m so, so sorry!”_

But you had seen it.

You had seen his newly-hardened member the moment before he fell to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written part of a 'second chapter' to this, but I'm not sure if I want to continue the story. It leaves off on a good note and I think it works better as a one-shot. However, if you'd like me to try to piece together a couple more 'chapters,' lmk and if there's enough demand I probably will. :)
> 
> Note: Ryou is NOT aroused by the rape or images sent by Yami Bakura. Just plain old dumb biology that has nothing to do with what he actually thinks of it. He's in love, which means that he hates everything that just happened and would NEVER think to do such a thing, but as Reacher-chan well knows, the body doesn't always react in accordance with the mind. Given the experience they both just went through, I'd say Ryou was raped too, if not as viscerally as the reader.


End file.
